


Song of Shadows

by ShadowdaBookworm



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 71,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowdaBookworm/pseuds/ShadowdaBookworm
Summary: Elain Archeon has been lost in darkness since she came out of the Cauldron. Her new powers threaten to drive her to madness until Azriel, shadowsinger and spy master of the Night Court, helps her come to terms with her powers. Azriel has been lost in the darkness of his past for five hundred years, but a new friendship with Elain may help lead him to the light at long last.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

**Azriel**

The wind blows locks of long, chestnut brown hair into my face. It blows the scent of flowers and growing things towards me. The female I cradle in my arms feels light, too light, and hollow. Her brown eyes are blank and sorrowful, reminding me of my youth. 

We land outside of the townhouse, and a tendril of my shadow opens the door for us. I carry Elain into the foyer and set her gently down. She looks up at me, but the empty look in her eyes punches me in the gut. Rhysand and Nesta enter a moment later as Feyre comes in from the other room. 

Elain sinks into a chair in the foyer, staring straight ahead at the wall. One of my shadows whispers the Autumn Court male approaches. That and a pang of sadness for this heartbroken female encourages me to approach her. “We have a lovely garden here,” I find myself saying. Her brown eyes find my face. “Would you like me to show it to you?”

I extend my arm out to her. She glances from my face and to my arm. Her brown eyes light up ever so slightly as she nods. I give her a soft smile, and she takes my arm. I lead her out the back door and into the summer sunlight. 

As we walk, Elain’s fingers gently stroke the Siphon in my gauntlet. “It's so beautiful,” she murmurs. Her voice is husky and quiet from disuse. She offers me a tentative smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. 

Lucien has arrived. I hear his voice among those drifting out the open back door. He growls before my High Lady’s voice soothes his anger. Quiet wrath leaks into my veins.  _ Let him come and try to claim her against her will. I would rip him limb from limb.  _

The path directs us towards the fountain bubbling and splashing merrily in the center of the garden. I direct her towards the beds of flowers tangled with a wide variety of different colors and shapes. 

“I know next to nothing about the flowers here, but you are welcome to come here anytime you like,” I babble out. 

She releases my arm and strokes a bright red rose with her long, delicate fingers. I hear her swallow. “These are lovely,” she whispers. “Very lovely…”

I watch as she fingers several flowers in the bed before sadness overtakes her expression and her hand drops to her side. Her fingers fiddle with the dark band of iron around her third finger. “I don't know if I have it in me to tend these flowers. They are so lovely while I am so dark and broken.”

I huff out a silent sigh. I have no words to reassure her, nothing wise or kind to say to make those feelings vanish as we wander back to the fountain. She sinks onto the wide lip, her eyes staring at her folded hands. 

I take a seat beside Elain and offer her the only thing I can. I retract the armor around my hands, and I take one of hers into my own. She looks up at me in surprise as she feels the roughness of the scars marking my bare skin. 

“You are not alone, Elain. I know what it is to feel broken and trapped in the darkness.” Her eyes widen as the shadows dance around us, but I do not sense fear. Some of the tendrils approach her, sniffing at her as a dog would.  “You are not alone,” I repeat. 

“What happened to your hands?” she asks in a choked whisper. 

“My half-brothers thought it would be amusing to test the speed and capabilities of Illyrian healing with fire,” I answer, keeping my voice neutral. Flashes of their leering faces, the sharp smell of oil, and the burning come unbidden to my mind. I push the memories down into the dark corners of my mind where they are consumed by shadows. 

Silver lines Elain’s eyes. She hurriedly wipes the tears away and looks down at our clasped hands. “You were trapped in the darkness, but you escaped.”

“All of us here were once trapped in the darkness,” I say. My thoughts turn to Morrigan. The shadows the haunt her face, her past, that she keeps locked deep in her heart. “Some of us still fight against the horrors of our past. We all found our way out because we have each other.”

Her brown eyes spark with hope… with life. Her fingers tighten around my own. “Hope. You give each other hope.”

I smile warmly at her. “Yes, I suppose we do. Hope for a better world. You take whatever time you need, Elain, but I want you to remember that you are never alone.”

Her brown eyes meet mine. They are mesmerizing. A gentle smile lights up her entire face as she nods. “Thank you, Azriel. I will remember that.” 

My name on her lips sounds wonderful. I return her smile and slowly rise to my feet. Rhysand brushes against my mind, but I ignore him. Elain stands as well and eyes the flower beds. 

“Would you help me for a bit?” she asks shyly. 

“I would be delighted to, but I admit I don't know a rose from a weed.”

Elain lets out a small chuckle. The sound reaches deep into my heart, my soul. “I can help you. Come.”

I allow her to lead me to the smallest flower bed. She pulls small plants from the soil, showing each one to me and explaining they are weeds that will kill the flowers already blooming. I recognize a few of the plants and pull them out of the dirt. 

Elain tells me of the gardens she grew at her family's old cottage, before they moved to the estate. She tells me of her father, whom she loves very much, judging by the expression on her face. 

As we pull weeds, I tell her of the Illyrian camps and the years spent training with Cassian and Rhysand. I avoid the more… rough stories. When I mention the general’s name, her eyes glint with mischief. “He likes my sister.”

I can't help but laugh at this. Nesta, the firebrand she is, gets under Cassian’s skin like no one has in five hundred years. He has complained about her and her sharp tongue countless times. “Yes, I believe he does.” 

Elain smiles broadly at this. “It would be good to have someone who challenges her. Someone who can match her in ferocity.”

I nod my agreement. Elain rises to her feet, brushing dirt from her hands. “I believe that is all of them.”

Rhysand taps against my mind once more. His call is more urgent this time.  _ What is it, High Lord? _

I sense the impatience in his voice.  _ We leave in two hours.  _

Elain wanders through the gardens, towards the house, and stops at the patio with various pieces of furniture around. She sinks into one of the chairs. I summon a cup of tea for her. She accepts it gratefully. 

I feel eyes staring down at us. A glance towards the windows reveals the High Lady watching her sister and I. I spread my wings out to warm them as I thumb through reports from my eyes and ears in the various courts. No hint of defection, of betrayal. 

Elain says nothing while we sit on the patio, enjoying the summer warmth and sun. She lets out a yawn as I send the reports to my rooms. I rise to my feet. “Would you like me to show you to your room? I will be leaving soon.”

“Where are you going?” She rises to her feet and takes my proffered arm. 

“We go to the Court of Nightmares tonight. There is a meeting to discuss the upcoming war.” I lead her back into the house. 

Cassian lounges in the sitting room, nursing a glass of bourbon and shooting daggers at the closed dining room doors. Nesta, Amren, and Lucien sit at the table, talking about the contents of the various books scattered across the wooden surface. Rhysand and Feyre are dressing in their room. I take Elain up the stairs and open the door not smelling of Nesta. 

“Get some rest,” I encourage her. “We will be back in a few hours. You will be safe here. I promise.”

Her eyes cloud with exhaustion as she enters the room. I hear the lock click. I set up a web of shadows around the door. If anyone tries to enter without her permission or tries to harm her, they will be trapped until I return to deal with them. 

Another door opens, revealing the High Lord and Lady dressed for battle. I greet them with a polite nod before returning to the sitting room. I pour myself a glass of amber liquid and summon my battle armor. 

Cassian and I clink glasses before emptying them. Amren and Nesta appear in the foyer, both dressed in fine clothes and wearing equal cold expressions. Mor breezes in through the front door, wearing a revealing dress of bright red. 

I can't help but drink in the lush curves and bare skin. She looks radiant, but a dark expression dims her face. I resist the urge to touch her shoulder in comfort. The Court of Nightmares is her dark prison, and here we must walk into it to face her tormentors. 

Rhysand meets my eyes and nods. I give him a subtle nod in return. Everything is set for the meeting tonight. The Steward is ready and waiting, and the heir of the Autumn Court awaits us as well. I feel a pang of pity for Mor. She has not faced Eris since the day he abandoned her in the woods. 

It was torment not to tell her, warn her, that he was at the meeting, but the High Lord commanded I keep it secret. From everyone in the Inner Circle. Our hands were tied, especially as he threatened to reveal my High Lady’s powers to his father, ensuring Beron would side with Hybern out of spite. 

When everyone is gathered in the foyer, Mor and Rhysand winnow us to the entrance of the Hewn City. I steel myself and put on a mask of icy rage as we enter those large stone doors. Mor walks in front of me, and I focus on her as the doors close behind us. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Elain**

The moment my bedroom door closes behind Azriel, the moment the house falls silent, all of the heaviness and grief those shadows seemed to hide me from comes rushing back. 

My energy fades, leaving me exhausted and weak. I pull on a nightgown of soft silk before I crawl into the large, soft bed. I can sense  _ him _ … the son of the High Lord that is my… mate. I can feel him still in the house. A part of my soul urges me to go to him, wrap my arms around him, allow him to kiss away the hot tears pouring down my cheeks. 

Images of a brown hair, blue eyes, and rounded human ears drive away the images of a golden eye and flaming red hair and… pointed ears. I run my fingers over my own ears, the sharp tips reducing me to tears once more. 

_ I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this! This… curse has stolen everything from me! I can never return home. I have lost my freedom to choose who I may love. I will never see my family or my friends again… _

My heart breaks open further, the salt from my tears adding to the raw, aching hole in my chest. Hiccups break the pattern of my sobs, and only after my pillow is soaked with bitter tears, does my exhaustion at last drag me into slumber. 

_ A woman’s heart wrenching sobs fill the darkness surrounding me. I call out to her, turning in all directions, but there is no sign of the woman and no answer to my calls.  _

_ The keening reaches a new pitch as the woman cries out. “I am not dead! I am here, don't you see? I'm not dead!”  _

_ My feet move forward, pulling me towards the sound of her voice. Pain blooms in my side as I run and run. I only stop, clutching at my side, when my breath becomes ragged in my throat.  _

_ “I'm not dead!”  _

_ At the sound of the voice again, images flash through my mind. I see a pair of young, flawless hands extend in front of me. They look as my own hands look. I reach out for them, but before I can touch them, the smooth skin begins to wrinkle.  _

_ I cry out in surprise as the once flawless hands transform into a pair of twisted, knobby hands speckled with brown spots and beset with deep wrinkles.  _

_ A flash of fire and melting snow and a strange box replace the changed hands. Through all of these images, I sense an ancient and all-consuming rage and sense of loss. Something was missing. Something had been taken. Something needed to be retrieved.  _

_ The woman's sobbing grows again. Once more, I see the flash of flame. This time, however, it takes the form of a feather. A single feather of fire lands on the winter snow, melting it.  _

_ “I am not dead! I am not dead! I am not dead!”  _

_ “Where are you?” I call out.  _

_ “Trapped. Trapped in a lonely place. Free me, free me, free me. Release me from this darkness.” _

_ I feel that ancient malice coming closer to me, searching for me. The female's voice fades and the stalking presence vanishes as darkness surrounds me once more.  _

I am thrown from my dreams, my heart racing with terror. The unfamiliar bedroom only adds to my fear, but a slice of light cuts through the curtains drawn over the windows. I clamber to my feet and rip the drapes open. My window overlooks the garden where the shadowsinger helped me weed. 

I smile slightly at the memory, but my relief is soon replaced with confusion and fear. My dreams have become strange and chaotic since my… transformation. 

Hot tears sting my eyes once more, and I wipe them away. The urge to move, to escape this room has me pulling a warm shawl over my shoulders and going down the stairs. 

I pause at the top of the staircase. The clock downstairs chimes six times, but the house remains still and silent. Surely, the others should be back by now. My feet are nearly silent as I descend, one hand keeping the shawl tight around me. I hear no voices, no movement, from any of the rooms. 

I turn towards the kitchen for a glass of water when the front door opens and my sisters and the rest of the group enters. I jump and flee to the steps. Their mouths move, but I cannot hear their words. Feyre’s eyes widen at the sight of me. 

“Do you need anything?” she asks. 

I shake my head. I notice their fancy gowns, the crown on top of Feyre’s head and her mate’s as well. I blink in surprise at the vicious black armor Azriel and Cassian wear. “No. I was sleeping, but I heard…” I shake my head again. My voice sounds so small and weak. “It's nothing. I just didn't hear you.”

Azriel approaches me, his hazel eyes full of concern and sympathy. “You heard something,” he says simply. 

I nod slightly, retreating a couple more steps. Back towards the solitude and sanctuary of my room. Away from the questions and concerned glances. “I was dreaming… but I'm… I think I'm always dreaming these days.” 

Feyre extends her hand towards me, offering hot milk. I shake my head more forcefully this time, backing up another few steps. The words come unbidden from my mouth. “I heard her crying. I hear her crying she isn't dead. She is different. Trapped. Just as I was.”

“Who?” Feyre asks. I only shake my head again. Nesta steps forward, but both of them stay silent. Waiting. 

Azriel speaks again. Only his voice seems to cut through the fog entering my mind. “What did you see?”

Our eyes lock once more, and the words spill out again. “I saw young hands wither with age. I saw a box of black stone. I saw a feather of fire land on snow and melt it.”

My heart skips a beat as my sisters exchange a look. I can sense their fear and uncertainty. They must think I have lost my mind.  _ I'm still here. I'm still here beneath the chaos and dreams. I'm still here.  _

Only Azriel remains looking at me. I want him to understand. I  _ need  _ someone to know I'm not crazy. More words pour out, but my voice wavers as I speak. “It was angry. It was so, so angry that something was taken. So it took something from them as punishment.”

After several moments of tense silence, Feyre turns to the shadowsinger. Her voice holds a note of desperation. “What does this mean?”

Azriel continues to stare at me, studying me. His eyes almost seem to say  _ I believe you _ . My shoulders slump with relief and I smile at him slightly before he vanishes into thin air. The blonde female, Morrigan, stares at the spot Azriel was before glancing up at me. I ignore her look.

I turn away from the others and climb back up to my room. Let them think what they want. My feet feel heavy.Exhaustion hits me once again as I sink into my mattress. This time, no dreams plague my sleep. 

When my eyes open once more, I see Nesta perched on the edge of my bed. “What can I do for you?” I ask her. 

Nesta offers me a rare smile. “I'm worried about you Elain. A healer is coming tomorrow to see you.”

I study my sister, resisting the urge to rage at her.  _ Why don't you see? I'm not crazy. I'm not, Nesta!  _ I'm too tired to argue though. I don't care enough to fight against it. I reluctantly agree to see the healer. 

Nesta takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Thank you. Would you join us for tea in the morning?”

I sigh. I'm tired… so, so tired, but for my sister… for her, I'll try more. “Yes, I will. I'll come down for tea.”

“Thank you.” Nesta rises to her feet. “You should get some more sleep. Would you like anything to eat?”

I shake my head. My stomach churns too much for me to eat anything. Just as it has for weeks. Nesta shoots a concerned glance at me before she kisses my cheek. As soon as she leaves the room, I sink back into my bed and into sleep again. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Azriel**

Realization hits me at Elain’s words. The images from another person, another place. Disjointed, chaotic images. The others think her mind was broken in the Cauldron, but… 

I offer Elain the only encouragement I can, through a smile. Her eyes express her gratitude as the others talk amongst themselves. Feyre turns to me, a question in her eyes. I ignore her question and winnow away. I need to do some research. I feel Mor’s blazing gaze on me as I vanish, but I do not return. My heart still smarts from her rejection, the anger that simmered in her eyes in the Hewn City. 

I materialize in the library, the priestesses greet me with bows and smiles. Pushing the guilt of Mor’s look deep into my mind, I wander deep into the library, searching for a particular book. During my first few years in Velaris, I had been curious about my powers. The shadows have always spoken to me, hidden me, but I never understood the mastery my magic gave me over them. Amren had shown me a section of texts describing different ways magic manifested. 

The hazy, lost  look in Elain’s eyes haunts me as I make my way through the shelves, carefully glancing at the titles. A whisper behind me has me turning around. A tendril of my shadow holds the book I was seeking in front of me. I take the book to a nearby table and peruse the section about magical visions. 

As I am reading, the tendrils of shadow watching over the townhouse alert me to Elain and Lucien meeting. I send the book back to its shelf and winnow to the skies above the townhouse. My brothers stand outside the door, looking into the windows. Cassian throws his head back and roars with laughter before he and Rhysand turn towards our favorite drinking place. The house is silent, so I vanish again and meet the others for a drink. 

“There you are, Az,” Cassian says as I step out of the shadows. “Where have you been?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I was just gathering some information. Did the females get tired of you already?” 

Rhys barks out a laugh. Cassian rolls his eyes. “No, the High Lady threatened to cut off our favorite parts if we interfered. I would rather remain in one piece.”

It is the High Lord’s turn to roll his eyes. “She did not,” he sighs in exasperation. “Her and Nesta are concerned about Elain’s magic having an effect on her sanity. Lucien volunteered to use their bond to… explore.” 

These words ignite a spark of anger inside of me. I reign in my emotions and arrange my face into a neutral mask. “I see,” I say simply. 

Cassian and Rhysand pour us all another drink and empty their glasses in one gulp. I slowly savor the warmth of the brandy, listening to the shadows. Even they feel drawn to the female…

A pulse down the tether as Elain jumps to her feet, startled. The bond. He found the bond and pulled. Lucien apologizes and the gathering quickly disperses. I down the rest of my drink and leave the bar. My brothers shout after me, but I ignore them and launch myself into the sky. 

I return to the town house, hidden in the shadows. Replies from some of the High Lords await our answers. Feyre and Mor are sitting at the table, Lucien and Nesta anxiously look to Elain. I feel a pang of sadness at the distant look in her eyes. “Twin ravens are coming. One white and one black.”

At her words, the others exchange confused looks. In a soft voice I didn't think she could use, Nesta asks, “What can I get you Elain?”

Those brown eyes move from the far wall and stop on where I stand for a heartbeat before looking at her sister. “Sunshine,” she breathes. 

Nesta glares at Feyre before taking Elain to the back garden. I follow them outside. The sisters stop at the fountain and sit on the lip. Silence permeates the garden, Nesta eyeing her younger sister warily before grasping her hand. 

“Tell me how I can help you, please, Elain.” Her voice cracks as she speaks. Her steely eyes shine with sorrow.

Elain only stares blankly ahead and shakes her head once more. After a few moments, she rises to her feet and returns to her room. 

**~~~~~~~~**

A message from the High Lady reaches me one morning a few days later.  _ No training today.  _

I chuckle softly and grab a tin of salve for aching muscles. Cassian meets me at the door of the townhouse, rolling his eyes at the empty morning ahead. 

Nesta and Elain sit around the dining room table, finishing up the remains of a hearty breakfast. Cassian reaches over Nesta’s head and snatches a muffin. “Morning Nesta. Elain.”

The latter turns her empty gaze to my brother. Her eyes widen slightly. She shakes her head. “I… I saw you. He snapped your wings, broke your bones.”

The house grows tense as the color drains from the faces of Cassian, Nesta, and Feyre. The general shrugs with false bravado. “It'll take more than that bastard to kill me.”

“No, it won't.” 

Feyre approaches her sister and suggests she go out to the garden. I immediately offer to take her. Elain takes my arm and gives me a soft smile. The shadows in her eyes fade, and my own dark servants vanish as well. 

Once in the garden, Elain begins tending to one of the flower beds. I seat myself on the patio, spreading my wings wide to warm them. After a long silence, Elain says quietly, “Why are my dreams so confusing? Why does it feel like I never can escape them?”

“Magic… it… it can be…” I begin before heaving a deep sigh. “I don't know Elain. I don't have an answer yet, but I swear to you I will not stop looking until I find one.”

“I just can't stop seeing it… two ravens. One white, one black. Cassian hurt. Darkness taunting me, hunting me. The ravens circle and circle me as I run down a path into darkness. I hear them… laughing.”

I walk over to Elain and place my hand over hers. Our eyes lock and, for one moment, I see the happy and lovely female Feyre always used to describe her as. “Think nothing of it for now.”

“I can't. Every shadow… every…”

Elain sinks to her knees, clutching her head. She lets out a high-pitched wail. Her brown eyes are wild with panic. “They're here. They're here.”

“Who?”

The wailing escalates into screams. “My sisters. They're here. My sisters… you have to save them!”

Elain breaks into hysterics. I send a message to Rhysand.  _ Something is wrong with Feyre and Nesta. They need help. Now. Elain is seeing something. _

The High Lord’s reply is immediate.  _ What do you mean? _

_ There isn't time to explain! They're in danger! Find them! _

“Run! Run! They're coming. They're here.  _ Run Feyre! _ ”

I grasp Elain’s arms and force her to look at me. “Elain, Rhysand and Cassian are on their way to your sisters. What do you see? Tell me.” 

“Nesta. They want Nesta. Cauldron, stolen, the… youth turned crone. The sixth queen. The Cauldron is angry. The Cauldron is incomplete.”

She shakes her head again. “I can't. I can't see. So dark… so cold.  _ Help them! _ ” 

Hysterical sobs wrack Elain’s thin body. I wipe the tears pouring down her face, darkening the collar of her dress. She throws her arms around me, burying her face into my shoulder. 

I shelter her in my arms, holding her fast as she continues to thrash and scream. A tap against my mental shield breaks catches my attention. Rhysand. 

_ Cassian is returning with Feyre and Nesta. I'm going to clean things up here but we will need to talk.  _

_ Very well.  _

Elain begins to quiet. The shadows crawl towards her, reaching out as if to comfort her. “Elain, your sisters are safe. Cassian is bringing them back here.”

She nods. I scoop her into my arms and carry her back inside. A gleam of red hair catches my eye as Lucien appears in the foyer. His gaze immediately burns into me, to his mate in his arms. He bares his teeth in a silent growl that I meet with a fierce glare. 

Mor rushes in behind him. Her eyes burn into me as well. My heart drops slightly at the hurt in those eyes. I ignore it for now and set Elain on the couch. “Look after her.” 

A nod from both of them is my only answer. I vanish into the shadows and appear on the roof, waiting for the others. Questions swirl in my mind as my dark tendrils whisper what happened in my ears. 

Nesta may have stolen power from the Cauldron, but Elain was given something. Visions of things she could have no way of knowing. Visions of danger.  _ Two ravens are coming. One white and one black. _

_ Of course! A Seer. You fool! She is a seer! _


	4. Chapter 4

**Elain**

I curl up tighter around myself, savoring the warmth of the female next to me. She eyes me warily from time to time. My… Lucien stands across the room, observing the city outside the sitting room window, but I know every sense is focused on me. 

When I close my eyes, more visions and chaos assault me. I press my lips together to keep from crying out against the onslaught. My body seems very far away, but I fight to maintain control. 

_ A menacing laugh from a pocket of darkness. Wings of white and black. A box of black stone. Dead, empty eyes in a sneering face. Feathers of flame against a bright blue sky. The crunch of bones and sinew. More white wings over a distant lake, a dark stone tower. _

_ A woman screaming with rage against the bonds holding her while the others cry for help, for mercy. A male voice weakly calling Nesta’s name. The flames can do nothing against the darkness as she is ripped into a new form. The screams of the dying as they are ripped to shreds. Human. A pool of blood in a bone-white castle across the sea. Flaming wings.  _

My eyes fly open with a faint gasp. Sweat pours down my face and back. Both Mor and Lucien turn to look at me, but the door opens before either of them can open their mouths. Cassian enters the room, cradling Nesta in his arms. Feyre enters directly behind them. 

Once Nesta’s feet hit the floor, she approaches the couch and sits next to me. She brushes strands of hair sticking to my face. All eyes expectantly turn to where my other sister and her mate stand in the foyer. They begin talking about the attack in the library, but I ignore the words. The images swirl around my mind, blending together until I can no longer tell the difference between reality and dreams or visions or whatever these are. 

I feel my mate’s gaze boring into me once more, but I refuse to meet his eyes. Azriel steps out of a shadow near the staircase, and every other thought vanishes from my head. Our eyes meet for a heartbeat, and I see determination and kindness in their hazel depths. 

Mor begins speaking about the war and a lack of allies. Names of the denizens of the Hewn City catch my attention. Names Nesta told me when she returned from under that mountain. 

“The queen may come.” 

My voice comes out so hoarse and distant. It unnerves me. Silence presses down on me as every set of eyes turns to me. Nesta lays her hand on my arm. Her voice is tight with repressed emotion. “What queen?”

Words pour out of my mouth unbidden once more. “The queen who was cursed.” 

Feyre turns to our sister. “Cursed by the Cauldron. When it threw its tantrum after you left.”

I feel a spike of irritation flicker through me.  _ How can they not see?  _ I shake my head. “No. Not that one. The other.”

Nesta’s grip on my arm tightens. She tugs on my arm to take me back to the silent room upstairs. Azriel’s eyes are intense as he looks at me. “What other?”

_ Feathers of flame. Cries of rage. A golden crown appearing as the sun sinks.  _

“The queen--with feathers of flame.”

The shadowsinger cocks his head, but Lucien opens his mouth before anyone else can speak. “Should we--does she need …?”

Another flicker of annoyance rushes through me.  _ Why do they think I am crazy? Why do they think I need coddling, nurturing? How can they not see?  _ I meet hazel eyes as the spymaster takes a step forward and the intensity in them floors me. He pushes my mate aside and approaches me. “She doesn't need anything.”

My confusion must flicker across my face because Azriel offers me an encouraging smile. “We are the ones that need…” He trails off, as if he was speaking to himself, before our eyes meet once more. “A seer. The Cauldron made you a seer.”

The word clicks into place deep inside of me. The swirling images in my mind fade away as Azriel's smile widens.  __ I blink at him before I turn to the blonde female sitting beside me. My sister once mentioned her magic involves truth, and her wide blue eyes rove over me. Her eyebrows come together as she thinks.

“Is that what this is?” The voice that comes out of my throat,  _ my  _ voice… not the voice of whatever images float through my mind. My voice. The fog in my mind clears even more, pushing the images into the back of my mind. I ignore the silent, studious gazes burning into me and focus on Mor. 

At long last, she gives a slow nod of confirmation. I notice my mate’s gaze lingering, his golden eye moving along my body. I turn to Azriel, gratitude in my eyes. A warm, tender feeling blossoms in my heart. He saw through the haze surrounding my mind, the shadows haunting me. He alone understood what the strange, disjointed words I spoke meant. 

“There is another queen?”

I dig deep into my mind, hesitant to allow the images to control me once more, but his words seem to have unlocked a measure of control over them. The vision of the flaming bird and the golden crown flit across my mind. 

_ A golden crown still perches on her head. Her gown, torn and dirty, barely maintains her modesty. A pocket of darkness stands before her on a dais. The voice that comes out of that shadow sends shivers down my spine. “Such a pretty little thing you are.”  _

_ The woman bares her teeth in a silent snarl, but her bound arms prevent her from lunging at the source of the voice. “Go to hell!”  _

_ A black box appears before vanishing into the darkness as it approaches the queen. “Your tongue is so sharp, my pet. Your words are like whips of fire. Your sisters sold you to me to leash that tongue, that temper. Perhaps your new form will match your personality.”  _

“Yes,” I say with authority. “Yes, there is another queen.” 

“The sixth queen,” Morrigan whispers, the words barely more than a breath. “The queen who the golden one said wasn’t ill…” 

An expression of realization flashes across Feyre’s face. “She said not to trust the other queens because of it.” Her blue eyes move to our eldest sister. “You stole from the Cauldron.” Nesta opens her mouth, but my sister’s blue eyes turn to me as she continues speaking. “But what if the Cauldron gave something to Elain?” 

The color drains from Nesta and Lucien’s faces. “What?”

Azriel nods at me. “You knew about the young queen turning into a crone.” 

I blink several times, staring at the shadowsinger.  _ What I saw was true? The withering hands and shrieking voices… it all happened. I didn’t imagine it! _

“The sixth queen is alive?” His voice is so… calm and sure. The voice of the spymaster.

“Yes.” 

One russet and one gold eye stare and stare and stare at me. Confusion and awe and another emotion I cannot place shine in the depths of the russet eye. I ignore it as Rhysand turns his violet eyes to me. “What sort of curse?”

_ Agony, utter agony, rips through my body as I am torn from my human form. The open windows reveal the edge of the sun peeking over the horizon. White feathers fall around me as my fellow prisoners soar over the wide lake. I unleash a cry of wrath as I spread my wings and fly.  _

_ We spend our days sailing over the clear waters of the lake. My sisters sing their sorrows and despair to the uncaring sky. I fling myself again and again against the shield barring us from leaving the lake, the tower. My cries of rage drown out the laments of the others.  _

_ A tether forces us back to our stone prison as the colors of the sunset fade. As darkness sweeps across the world, my wings vanish into arms. I sink to the floor, savoring the feeling of my limbs, my body, being mine once more. Until the sun rises once again.  _

“They sold her--to...to some darkness, to some… sorcerer lord.” The words are hesitant. I can never see the male holding the black box. I allow the visions to speak. “I can never see him. What he is. There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything… save for them. The girls. He keeps other girls--others so like her--but she… By day, she is one form, by night, human again.” 

Feyre and her mate share a glance. “A bird of burning feathers,” my sister says.

“Firebird by day, woman by night,” her mate echoes. He turns back to me. “So, she’s held captive by this sorcerer lord?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I hear her… her screaming. With rage. Utter rage.” A shiver runs through me as the sound echoes in my ears again. 

Mor smiles at me and leans forward. “Do you know why the other queens cursed her? Sold her to him?” 

“No. No, that is all mist and shadow.” 

Rhys sighs. “Can you sense where she is?”

_ I fly across the sea, over the land, before I see a clear lake nestling between two mountains. A small island of dark stone interrupts the shimmering expanse of the water. A massive, dark tower rises up from the island… as if the island itself formed the tower. Several white birds fly around the tower, singing their songs of misery.  _

_ Above it all, a single streak of flame races across the sky. Her cries of burning wrath drown out the other songs. Her head turns to me, as if she can sense me watching.  _

“There is… a lake. Deep in the continent, I think. Hidden among mountains and ancient forests.” My throat tightens as I hear those lamenting cries again. “He keeps them all at the lake.”

“Other woman like her?”

“Yes… and no. Their feathers are as white as snow. They glide across the lake, singing their mournful songs of despair and grief. She… she rages through the skies above the water.” 

The others begin debating amongst themselves about finding this sixth queen and rallying her to our cause. Mor claims we should go to the continent to look for this queen, this Vassa. Cassian counters it's too dangerous, especially since she is bound to this male and it's so far away. 

Lucien says nothing. I glance at my mate, and his gaze never leaves my face. As if he is memorizing the planes of my face. Finally, he speaks, but not to me. “I'll go.”

The words ring out in the tense silence. He looks from me to the High Lord. “I'll go to find this sixth queen.”

A shred of my soul leaps up and roars at this suggestion. The distance too great, the danger too much. He runs the risk of dying… alone and so far away. I could never see him again. 

Those two eyes drift through my mind, but my finger instinctively strokes the iron band around my third finger. Lucien glances down at it with a pained expression. He gives me a subtle nod. 

Rhysand asks my mate a question I don't hear over the roaring in my mind. Lucien’s voice draws my attention. 

“This eye… It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.” He looks at me again. I grow very interested in my lap. “I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to, but …” The sadness in his voice tugs on my heart. “I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I’m willing to bet I’m no longer welcome at h—the Spring Court.But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies—there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can … bring help.”

A warning passes between the Illyrians and my mate. He will go alone. He will face this unknown threat alone. The feelings inside of me swirl together. Graysen. Lucien. Azriel. 

I bite my lip, meeting my mate’s intense eyes once more.  _ For you, I will go. For you, I will fight so that we have a shot at winning this war.  _

His voice. Inside of my mind. I feel a faint thread between us, but I dare not touch it. I blink at him. His mouth lifts into a slight, sad smile. 

_ No. Don't go. Don't leave. Please.  _

Lucien and Rhysand conclude planning my mate’s departure for the following day. The others stand and leave the room. Nesta lingers on the threshold, but Feyre grips her arm and steers her upstairs. Only Lucien and I remain in the sitting room. 

He opens and closes his mouth several times before huffing a sigh and rising to his feet. “Thank you.”

Lucien runs a hand through his long hair and grins at me. “What are you thanking me for?”

I meet his gaze, pouring the apology I'll never speak out loud into my eyes.  “For volunteering to go search for allies. For… believing me.”

Again, that sad smile spreads across his face. I read the loneliness in that expression. “I wouldn't be much use elsewhere.”

I rise from the couch and cross the room. His mouth parts as I take his callused, warm hand in my own. “I… I know this is hard… but… I need time. There is so much going on in my mind… I cannot sort out my feelings about you… or anyone right now.”

Lucien squeezes my fingers. “Take all the time you need. I waited five hundred years for you. I can wait a little longer.” He pecks me on the cheek. My blood races through my veins at the contact. “No matter what you decide, I want you to be happy, Elain.” 

He releases my hand and walks out of the house before I can gather my thoughts enough to respond. The warmth of his skin lingers as I return to my own room, my emotions thrashing around in my chest. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Azriel**

Cassian and I lounge in the sitting room, playing a hand of cards, awaiting the arrival of the High Lord. The Archeon sisters sit in the dining room, talking quietly amongst themselves. Mor breezes in through the door, returning from a shopping trip. My gaze is drawn to her, the slim gown she wears accentuating her curves. I feel Cassian’s eyes lingering on her as well. 

Our eyes meet, and the smile on her face punches a hole through the shadows hovering around my face. The breath leaves my chest for a heartbeat. Her cheeks are flushed from happiness, and my eyes linger on her face, her beauty. Feyre calls out to her, and Mor lets out a laugh. That sound… it’s the most beautiful sound in existence. 

Mor walks out of the door again, and the shadows curl around my face. Whispers of power float through the room a moment before Rhysand winnows into the foyer. Feyre releases a shuddering breath as the High Lord appears, free of harm and injuries. Cassian beckons to me as the High Lady wraps her arms around Rhysand’s waist. 

Cassian and I hurry out the door and begin walking towards the House of Wind. Halfway down the block, Amren races past us, a look of unfathomable rage in her silver eyes. Frenzied whispers about…  _ Hybern.  _

My feet freeze on the cobblestones. Cassian immediately turns to face me, demanding to know what is wrong. The tendrils of shadow bring me chaotic images of…  _ Hybern. Ships. Heat, overbearing heat. Adriata. Hybern.  _

I begin to race back to the townhouse, Cassian’s footsteps only a few feet behind me. The door is already open, and Amren stands in the foyer, panting. The others radiate tension. “Hybern has attacked the Summer Court. They lay siege to Adriata as we speak.”

Guilt and shame flood through me as she gives the news I already know. Hybern attacks Summer, and I don't see it coming.  _ Stupid, stupid! How could I have missed the signs?  _

The question leaves a sense of curiosity in my mind. How did Amren even find out about the attack? Cassian must be wondering the same thing as he asks, “Has Tarquin called for aid?”

I tense as Amren’s jaw tightens. “I don’t know. I got the message, and… nothing else?” 

The plans, the possibilities of a battle, set Cassian’s mind to whirring. His voice loses its familiar warmth. He transforms into the general of the Night Court armies, into the most talented warrior on the killing field.  “Did the Summer Court have a mobile fighting force readied when you were there?”

The High Lord shakes his head. “No, his armada was scattered across the coast.” 

I share the information my eyes and ears have been feeding me for weeks. Hardly any ships in Adriata, most of the army along the Spring Court border. The eyes of the others darken as the realization hits them. The Summer Court is in danger of falling. “There are twenty ships in Adriata.”

Rhys nods and turns to his Second. “What are the numbers on Hybern?” 

She gives a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know. Many. Too many. I think they are overwhelmed.” 

“What was the exact message?” The voice of the High Lord. 

“It was a warning. From Varian. To prepare our own defenses.” 

Silence fills the room. My spies had whispered to me that Amren and Varian were… close, but… I never knew they were friends or in contact. Cassian expresses my own surprise. “Prince Varian sent you a warning?” 

The silver eyes glow with anger. “It is a thing friends do.” 

Feyre steps forward, her gaze intense as she stares at her mate. “We cannot leave Tarquin to face them alone. Blood rubies or not. I cannot stand by as innocents die.” 

Rhysand nods to me once, and I vanish into shadow. Mor and I lock gazes for an instant, and my heart twists at the worry on her face.  _ This is war. I have my duties, and she has hers. No matter what, we have to fight.  _

I winnow into the skies above the city. The oppressive heat pulls the air out of my chest. The others appear around me, in their smoke and mist forms, before I send them to all points of the city.  _ Do whatever you can to protect the innocent lives here, and keep track of the enemy movements.  _

Several voices, yet one single voice, whispers,  _ Yes, shadowsinger.  _

Plumes of smoke rise up from the harbor where ships burn. The sound of screaming rises above the din of clashing steel and crackling magic. I soar, invisible, over the gathered ships. Tarquin’s men fight valiantly, but they are outnumbered three to one. Hybern soldiers race onto the streets, delighting in tormenting the citizens of the city. 

A spear of night and power rushes across the skies, stopping short of shattering my mental shields. Rhysand.  _ Cassian is readying the legions. We will be there within the hour. Mor and Feyre will be joining in the battle.  _

I push the spike of fear deep into my heart, where it lodges itself into my gut.  _ Very well, High Lord. I will remain here, and protect what people I can.  _

My Siphons flare to life as Rhysand withdraws his power. The sound of a female screaming for mercy, for the life of her child, awakens the darkness of my memories. I send a shot of blue power towards the soldiers tormenting them. The shields trap the males as tendrils of shadow strangle the life from their miserable throats. 

My Illyrian blade whines as I pull it from its sheath. Every swing of my sword leaves a trail of bodies in its wake. My scouts report more soldiers coming into the streets, more innocent lives being extinguished, but the people begin to fight for their lives. I send out blast after blast of my Siphon’s power to fell soldiers preying on the citizens. 

I keep myself wrapped in shadow, and the tendrils of darkness eagerly snuff out the lives of the enemy. The sound of screaming fades, and I sense a large power gathering. The skies come alive with shields of red, blue, and green flame. I launch myself into the skies, directing different legions where to focus their efforts. 

A head of raven hair and green Siphons catch my attention. The leader bows low before me, her brown eyes alight with the eagerness of battle. There is no cocky smile on the female’s face as she asks, “Where do you need us, shadowsinger?” 

“Fly to the palace. Help clear a perimeter in the streets around it, and protect any innocent lives you can. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for, Hanna. Show them no mercy.” 

The female flashes me a brief grin before she  bends into another bow before the rest of the legion races towards the center of the city, towards the palace of coral and sandstone. A wall of darkness surrounds the harbor, but the sound of screaming rises up from the inky blackness. I smile a bit and launch myself back into the battle, my Siphons flaring to life and my blade singing.  

_ Shadowsinger. The High Lady and Morrigan are in danger.  _

I pull my sword, dripping with blood, from the chest of the nearest soldier before my pounding heart drags me into the skies and towards that palace of seashells. I glimpse broken bodies and wings littering the streets as I fly towards my High Lady and… Mor. I see them, on the steps of the palace, battling their way onto the streets of the island. 

Streams of water and ice attack Hybern’s men. Mor’s thin blades of Seraphim steel whistle through the air, leaving bodies in its wake. I swear she looks up to where I hover in the air for a brief moment. Her fighting leathers are splattered with blood, but she moves without injury. The tightness in my chest loosens as I turn away from her. 

Mor would not like my interference in this battle. I land on the streets of the island and begin the dance of magic and steel once more. A surge of power cuts through the battle rage. Rhysand’s magic flares and flares, but…  _ The king is here!   _ Every sound and thought empties from my head as every single one of my scouts shouts that the King of Hybern is in Adriata, and Rhysand… 

Once more, I launch myself into the skies and race towards the harbor. I feel some kind of… damper on my power grow as I approach the ships. The wall of darkness has vanished, but I can sense the power building. Sure enough, Rhysand stands alone on the deck of a Hybern ship, and in front of him… the king. My power, though flagging, roars to life at the sight of our greatest enemy. 

_ Stay away Azriel! Keep fighting. If it goes badly, you get Feyre and the others out.  _

The voice of my High Lord, of my commander. I pause in the air above the ships, hesitating. I shake my head and stay in the air above the ship, watching and waiting, nothing more than a wisp of mist in the smoke choked air. Rhysand’s power spears towards the king, but it goes right through him. 

_ An illusion?  _ My shadows pass through the king’s body as well. He fades into thin air, and my Siphons brighten as my power returns to me. The rest of Hybern’s forces begin retreating towards the remaining ships. The soldiers on the land stop short at the banks of the harbor when those on the ships spray into the air. 

A rain of blood and metal and wood falls on the once pristine waters of the city’s harbor. Another wave of Rhysand’s hand has the gathered force on the beach joining their fellow brothers. The sound of battle fades. I become solid once more, and Rhysand glances up at me once.  _ Cassian is in the center of the city.   _

I join my brother at the heart of Adriata, as the other Illyrians join us, most carrying injured or dead warriors. Cassian leads them into the hills overlooking the city to begin erecting tents. Healers tend to the wounded. My spies all return to me and whisper what they have seen and heard to me. I make note of all vital information to tell Rhys later. 

Though exhaustion weighs in my very bones, I begin to help with the camp set up. Cassian carries wounded soldiers to the healer’s side of the encampment. Mor appears in the camp. Her hair and face are covered with flecks of dried blood. She offers me a warm smile before beginning to help with the wounded as well. The Illyrians who died are laid in neat rows outside of the camp. 

Casualty lists will go out soon. Memories of scanning those lists in secret centuries ago floods through me, but I push the thoughts down. They are old news, in the past, and they will do no good coming out now. The sun begins to fade as the last of the wounded are bandaged and the dead counted. Only one hundred warriors were killed in the skirmish. Cassian’s eyes hold shadows, as they do after every battle. I pat his shoulder in comfort as I walk to my tent. 

Mor dozes on a stool near a fire. I admire the way the light dances in her blonde hair, the glow to her pale face. She starts awake as I approach her, but her face relaxes when she sees me. “How are you holding up?” she asks me. 

The shadows around my face fade away at her warm smile. “Fine. How are you?”

She sighs and shakes her head. I sit on a log next to her stool. “It never gets easier. These… soldiers deserve it for killing the innocents, for destroying their homes and lives, but… it, war, never gets easier.” 

I nod my head as she sighs again. Her hands rest on her lap, and I place my own scarred one over hers in comfort. Mor’s head whips up to glance at my face at the touch, but she doesn’t pull away. “Don’t forget, you’re never alone, Mor,” I say quietly. 

Those golden-brown eyes study me for a few more moments before she scoots her stool closer to mine and lays her head on my shoulder. “Thank you, Azriel.” I can’t help but smile at the weight of her resting on my shoulder. “I just… this war might cost us more than the last one. It frightens me…”

There were no words that I can offer her. No platitudes to put her fears to rest. “I worry about the same things. The reports… We have to face this threat. Being together gives us a better chance of winning.”

“But at what cost?” 

“We don’t have a choice. If we do nothing, Hybern will stop at nothing to destroy everything we hold dear. Every one of us will fight until there is nothing left. Even if we die, at least we can die knowing that it was for a good cause.” 

Mor tightens her grip on my fingers. Visions of empty eyes and unmoving limbs flash before my eyes. Too soon, Mor lifts her head and bids me good night. I watch her walk into her tent before retiring to my own bed. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
**Elain**  


A strange, growling noise pulls me from my dreamless sleep. I rub the tiredness from my eyes and press a hand to my stomach. Hunger makes my stomach churn and gurgle within me. 

I climb out of my bed, savoring the sunlight pouring through the windows. One of the wraiths that tends to my sisters and I appears a moment later. Nuala bows to me and offers me an encouraging but shadowy smile. “Good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning, Nuala.”

Her eyes widen in surprise at the… normalcy of my tone. She walks to the wardrobe and begins laying out dresses for me to choose from. “I… I think I would like something a little… casual today.”

Nuala dips her head and understanding and finds a simple, yet elegant, cotton gown of the softest green. After I dress, she sweeps my hair into a simple braided bun. My stomach growls again. 

“Are you hungry, my lady?” Nuala asks. “We are making fresh bread this afternoon. I can bring you some when it's done.”

“I want to help,” I say, my voice quiet. “The others have their tasks and duties while I have nothing…”

Nuala nods her understanding. As she puts the last hairpin into place, she beckons me down the stairs. Nesta and Amren sit in the dining room, pouring over large, ancient volumes. The house is silent otherwise. 

“Where are the others?” I ask. 

The wraith hesitates for a moment as we enter the kitchen. Nuala meets her sister’s eyes. “There was an… ambush in the Summer Court. The others went to help.”

My heart drops to the floor. Fractured images of broken wings, burning buildings, and the screams of the dying flood my mind. “Have… has there been any word…?”

Cerridwen offers me a smile. “Yes. The others are fine. Cassian and Azriel are tending to the wounded and setting up a camp here in our lands. The Lord and Lady have returned to the city.”

“Oh thank the Cauldron,” I mutter automatically. 

I push the images from my mind. Worrying will do no good right now. They are fine… Azriel is fine. The counter is covered with flour and bread dough. I turn my attention to that instead. “Please, show me what to do.”

The hours passed in laughter and chatter between the two females. I found myself laughing alongside them as we made a mess of ourselves and the kitchen. My first attempt at making bread was a doughy mess on the counter when the kitchen door opened to Feyre and Rhysand standing on the threshold, both of the covered in mud.

Their eyes widen as they take in the flour dusted kitchen and us. Feyre’s gaze lights up with happiness and wonder. Nuala and Cerridwen bow low to my sister and her mate and Nuala offers a shaky explanation. Dread fills my chest.  _ Oh no! I forgot I am a lady here. It isn't proper for someone like me to be working alongside the servants.  _

I open my mouth to explain, to tell Rhysand not to be angry at the two females, that I  _ wanted  _ this when Feyre grins broadly at me. “I hope it will be done soon. I'm starved.”

I give my sister a grateful smile. Feyre interlaces her fingers with her mate's and backs out of the room, announcing their intention of bathing. 

“Will you get in trouble for my helping you?” I ask in a whisper. 

Nuala and Cerridwen shake their heads. “No, not at all. The High Lord is… he is very good and kindhearted.”

A weight lifts from my chest. “Good. I was… I didn't want to get either of you in trouble.”

Two broad smiles are my only answer. The loaves eventually find their way into the oven, and I brush the flour from my skirt. Nuala and Cerridwen shoo me from the kitchen, despite my offers to help clean up. 

In the dining room, I see Mor has joined Nesta and Amren, but my sister refuses to look at the other female. Instead, she makes frequent glances to the front door, as if waiting for it to open. Curiosity stirs inside of me. I have never seen Nesta wait for anyone or anything. 

She notices me staring and nods a greeting to me. Her sharp eyes take in the flour still dusting my skirt but says nothing. I turn towards the back garden and busy myself tending the plants until I drop into bed exhausted. 

_ I enter the front door of the townhouse to find Nesta pacing, her expression grim. “Where is he?”  _

_ “Who?” I ask, amusement dancing in my voice.  _

_ “Cassian.” I never heard her use the Illyrian general's name. Ever.  _

_ Morrigan responds before I can open my mouth. “He's busy.”  Her usually warm voice holds nothing but icy contempt.  _

_ Nesta’s steel-blue eyes bore into Mor’s own brown gaze. Both females would be dead if looks could kill. There is a challenge in Mor’s voice, an attempt to drive my sister away from the Illyrian.  _

_ “When he gets back, keep your forked tongue behind your teeth.” _

_ A powerful male voice fills the tense silence. “Mor…” _

_ Those brown eyes meet my own gaze before glaring back at my sister. Nesta does not blink or balk from the female's burning look. Mor vanishes in the blink of an eye.  _

I awaken the next morning, my thoughts churning from the vision. Does my sister  _ care  _ for the Illyrian general she claims drives her insane? What does Mor have to do with him? She has never shown much interest in either Cassian or Azriel…

I quickly dress myself and sweep my hair back into an elegant bun before going downstairs for breakfast. Nesta sits at the table, a plate of food before her. She picks mindlessly at the steaming eggs, watching the front of the house. She glances up when she hears me on the stairs. 

I load a plate with some food and join her in silence at the table. I pretend not to notice her frequent looks towards the front door. Feyre comes down about ten minutes later. Her own blue eyes take in Nesta. She opens her mouth to say something but decides against it. 

Nesta gives Feyre a once over before saying, “You're going to that meeting in two days.”

The meeting of the High Lords to discuss the war with Hybern. Nuala and Cerridwen spoke of it yesterday. The meeting Nesta refuses to attend. 

“Yes,” Feyre answers simply. 

Nesta glances towards the front doors again then turns back to my sister. “You went off into battle. Without a second thought. Why?”

Feyre’s eyes seem to darken, as if she is remembering the horrors of the battle. “Because I had to. Because people needed help.”

Nesta says nothing else, and I cannot read the emotions in her eyes. Feyre bids us goodbye before winnowing away. 

I finish my breakfast and return to the garden. My thoughts turn to Azriel. He had not come to the house since the battle, but the meeting has been occupying the thoughts of everyone… but me. 

Determination grips me in one fell swoop. The desire to help my sister, to do  _ anything _ to help this land, its people both human and faerie, sweeps through me. I enter the house to find Rhysand, Morrigan, anyone I can. 

Nesta and Amren have moved to the sitting room. No one else is in the house. I hover in the doorway, clutching the threshold. The small, silver-eyed female unnerves me, so I dare not interrupt her as she drills lessons into my sister. 

Amren notices me and gives me a questioning glance. “What is it?”

Nesta whips her head to me, her own eyes wary and asking the same thing. “I… I need to speak to Rhysand.”

Both females give me an incredulous look. Amren only nods and turns back to the lesson. Nesta keeps staring at me before the other female snaps at her to focus. 

Taking that as a sign of dismissal, I retreat into the back garden. Fifteen minutes later, the High Lord strolls in through the door and approaches me. His imposing stature and intense violet eyes intimidate me, but I keep my voice steady as I announce my intentions. 

“I'm going to the meeting.”

Whatever he was expecting, this was not it. I almost laugh at the shock on his face, but I keep my face determined and stern. The High Lord nods. “If you are feeling up to it, we would be delighted if you attended.”

I smile at my sister's mate. “Thank you, Rhysand.”

His face softens and he bows to me before launching himself into the skies. I turn back to the flower beds, and the sun cuts through the sky. At dusk, I enter the house to track down something to ease my rumbling stomach. 

The others all gather in the dining room, pouring over maps and stacks of papers. Azriel is there, giving Rhysand the information on a place called the Dawn Court. All eyes turn to me as I enter the house. 

“Oh… yes,” Rhysand says. “Elain will be accompanying us to the meeting.”

“No.” Nesta’s voice cuts across the silence. She shoulders her way to stand in front of me. Blocking me from the others. “She isn't going.”

“Yes, I am,” I snap. “I am going.”

Nesta turns to face me, her eyes wide with worry and anger. “Why?”

“I want to. I am tired of sitting here while you all risk your lives for this. I can't fight, but I can help, even a little, by going to this meeting, then I  _ am  _ going.”

The strength and authority in my voice surprises even me. I see the males, especially Azriel, looking at me with respect. Nesta and Feyre share looks of incredulity. Amren and Mor both nod at me. 

“I'll help you find a dress,” Mor offers. 

“Thank you,” I say and walk around my sister. I glance once more at the shadowsinger, my friend, and smile at him. He gives me a subtle nod before returning to the discussion. 

I wolf down a quick meal of bread and stew and retreat upstairs to bed. Hope… hope burns in my chest. That is why they fight. That is why they fly into battle. Hope for a brighter future… a better world.

A moment before sleep claims me, I swear I feel a tendril of shadow brush softly against my cheek. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Azriel**

We gather in the foyer of the townhouse, waiting for Rhys. Cassian and I spent the early hours of the morning polishing our Siphons and armor until they gleamed. Feyre stands at the bottom of the stairs, pacing, her dress and grown regal and beautiful. 

“What?” she snaps at Cassian. 

The corners of his mouth twitch. “You just look so…”

Mor and I both roll our eyes. The shadows move around my face, scouting the Dawn Court palace for any traps, any hidden enemies. “Here we go,” Mor mutters. 

My eyes drink in Morrigan. Her usual red dress is replaced with one of the deepest blue. A ring decorates every finger, bracelets clack together on her wrist. She looks breathtaking. 

“Official.  _ Fancy _ .” Cassian finishes. 

Mor rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disgust. “Over five hundred years old, a skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complimenting ladies is still something he finds next to impossible. Remind me why we bring you on diplomatic meetings?”

I can't help the chuckle that escapes my lips. Cassian shoots me a hurt look. “I don't see you spouting poetry, brother.”

I cross my arms and lift a brow. “That's because I don't need to resort to it.”

The shadows dim as Mor laughs. Cassian and Feyre exchange mischievous grins. Rhys comes down the stairs, and the smoldering intensity in his gaze has us all looking away.  _ This  _ is the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. 

A sharp voice cuts through the silence. “I thought you were leaving.” 

All of our eyes turn to the stairs as Nesta slowly walks down them. Her sapphire blue dress and lack of adornment only emphasize her devastating beauty. Cassian’s eyes burn as they behold her, but he quickly looks away when Mor cuts a glare to the eldest Archeon sister. 

Nesta stops before Rhys and Feyre and gives her sister a quick look. “You look beautiful.” 

“ _ That _ , Cassian, is what you were trying to say.” My brother only shrugs at Mor and turns to me. Nesta’s gaze lingers on the general, but she keeps her mouth closed. 

Feyre speaks to Nesta, but my attention is drawn to Elain who appears at the top of the stairs. Her eyes sparkle as she approaches the group. Her brown hair sweeps off of her neck into a fancy braid, woven with flowers. Her gown is the softest pink, offsetting her brown eyes. 

I cannot draw my eyes away from her as she steps into the foyer, and her own eyes meet mine, banishing the lingering shadows. I take an involuntary step forward, and Cassian winks at me. 

Nesta intercepts Elain, halting her from approaching me. Mor turns her gaze to me, and my heart skips a beat. I shake my head to clear the raging thoughts and focus on Rhys. 

He gives me a subtle nod and I winnow to the Dawn Court. The sky glows with the oranges and pinks of a vivid dawn, and the palace absorbs the warmth, bathing the stone in orange light. My appearance is greeted by one of Thesan’s attendants. After several moments, I give Rhys the all clear.

The rest of my family appears on the landing almost an instant later. Nesta and Cassian hold hands, Mor’s face unreadable. Elain shoots me a beaming look as she appears with Rhys and Feyre. I offer her my arm and follow the High Lord into the palace. Her warmth radiates through me as her fingers stroke the scars on my hands. 

As we approach the chamber where the others await us, I feel shields form around our entire party. Elain presses closer to me. We enter a large, circular chamber with a large pool in the center. Kallias, Hellion, and Thesan stand in the center talking, but they fall silent as we approach. Everyone but Feyre and Rhysand bow to the High Lord of the Dawn Court. 

Pleasantries are exchanged, and I can't help but chuckle when Mor and her friend, Viviane of the Winter Court, begin chattering endlessly together. I escort Elain to chairs on the far side of the pool. Hellion stares unabashedly at Nesta, and I hear their conversation. 

“Who Made her?” Hellion asks. 

“Hybern did, when he threw me and my other sister into the Cauldron,” Nesta answers, her voice even and cold. Elain tenses beside me. 

“Why would he do this?” Kallias interjects.

“They did this after Tamlin and his priestess Ianthe sold them out to Hybern.”

“That's a heavy accusation,” Hellion says. 

“It is no accusation. We were all there, and now we are going to do something about it.” Feyre beckons to Nesta and joins us in the seats without another word to the High Lords.

An hour later, an attendant announces Summer’s arrival. Once the High Lord and his retinue seat themselves, firmly ignoring us, another attendant announces the arrival of Beron and  _ all  _ of his sons. 

I don't miss Mor’s face draining of color, and she recoils as the High Lord of Autumn enters along with Eris and the rest of his brothers. I focus on the eldest son and glower at him. 

Everyone takes their seats, and Thesan waves his hand to my High Lord. “Rhysand, you have called this meeting. Pushed us to gather sooner than we intended. Now would be the time to explain what is so urgent.”

Rhys blinks slowly at the Thesan. 

“Surely the invading armies landing on our shores explains enough.” 

Beron snorts, and my family glares at him. Hellion waves off the sound and braces his arms on his thighs. “So you have called us to do what, exactly? Raise a unified army?”

Rhys nods, glancing at Feyre. “That, among other things. We--”

A crack of thunder echoes through the chamber, cutting off Rhysand’s words. Elain flinches into me as I put my hand on the hilt of Truth-Teller. Cassian raises an arm in front of Nesta, and Rhys and Feyre go completely still. 

His green eyes hone in on my High Lady, his smile wolfish and hungry. Elain whimpers as Tamlin strolls in and stops in the middle of the chamber. I place my hand over hers and tendrils of shadow wrap around her. 

Our eyes meet for a heartbeat and her face brightens slightly. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Elain**

The appearance of my sister's previous lover reawakens memories I never wanted to come to mind again. Images of Azriel, bleeding from a hole in his chest; Cassian, wings shredded ribbons; my sister's fighting and screaming as I am forced under the water; the empty, cold void of the Cauldon… all of those things flash through my mind. 

A whimper escapes my throat, but only Azriel hears it. I feel his fingers tighten around my own and a his shadows wrap around me, shielding me from Tamlin. I give him a faint smile as I look up at him. 

The rest of the room is silent, holding its breath, as room is made for the High Lord of the Spring Court. Nesta outright glares at him. I keep my eyes on my lap, so the fear shining in my eyes isn't apparent to all. 

A few words are exchanged, and I look up to see Tamlin levelling a seething glare towards my sister and her mate. His voice drips with venom. “It would seem congratulations are in order.”

Rhysand turns to our host, Thesan, and announces they can continue later. Tamlin huffs a sigh and rolls his eyes. Rhysand keeps his gaze level as he says, “I’m not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies.”

“No, you're just in the business of fucking them.” 

Azriel stiffens beside me, and Cassian and Mor glare at Tamlin. Feyre’s lip curls slightly. Rhysand shrugs nonchalantly. “Seems a far less destructive alternative to war.”

“And yet here you are, having started it in the first place.” Tamlin’s claw slides out and points to my sister. I flinch a bit. “If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.”

Feyre snaps, “The sun was shining when I left you.” Tamlin waves her words away with his hand and dismisses her. 

“Why are you here Tamlin?” one of the other High Lord snaps. 

Tamlin addresses the High Lords. I block out his words, trying to reign in my growing fear… and anger. Azriel’s shadow strokes my cheek, a gesture of comfort and friendship. 

Feyre’s hoarse whisper drags me from my thoughts. “You don’t get to rewrite the narrative. You don’t get to spin this to your advantage.”

“When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?” Tamlin says to Rhys. 

Feyre’s face reddens. My own simmering anger begins to boil. How dare he speak about my sister that way! Rhysand’s face remains calm, but I can feel the air crackling. Azriel growls beside me, his voice quiet with the promise of death, “Be careful how you speak about my High Lady.”

Tamlin’s eyes widen a fraction of an inch before animalistic rage overtakes his features. He taunts Feyre, choosing his words to cut deep at wounds not yet healed. Rhysand chuckles and leans back in his chair. “Well played Tamlin. You're learning.

Tamlin curls his lip at the condescending tone, but turns to the High Lord dressed entirely in white. Ice and blizzard personified. “You asked why I’m here? I might ask the same of you. You mean to tell me that after Under the Mountain, you can stomach working with him?” 

“We came to decide that for ourselves.”

Rhysand’s face drops, his violet eyes deep wells of grief and sadness. “I had no involvement in that.  _ None.  _ I did everything I could to try and stop it.”

“You stood beside her throne while the order was given,” the High Lord of Winter says quietly. “Tell that to the parents of the two dozen younglings she butchered. That you  _ tried _ .

“There is not one day that passes when I don’t remember it. Not one day.” Rhysand says, the emotion in his voice cracking my heart. Feyre’s eyes hold a grief equal to her mate's. She places her hand on his knee. 

The female sitting next to Kallias offers them a sad smile. “I was not present Under the Mountain. But I would hear, High Lord, how you tried to—stop her.”

When Rhysand says nothing, the red-haired High Lord laughs. “Finally speechless, Rhysand?”

Feyre’s voice rings across the chamber, strong and confident, “I believe you.”

“Says the woman who gave an innocent girl’s name in her stead—for Amarantha to butcher as well.” the High Lord of Autumn sneers. Feyre’s voice tightens at the words. 

_ Invisible hands close around me, sinister laughter echoes in my mind. My screams cannot be heard around the putrid gag in my mouth. I am dragged outside into the muggy night.  _

_ Behind me, flames brighten the darkness. I thrash in the arms of my captor as my home is completely engulfed. Tears stream down my face as the screams of my family pierce the night. A blow to my temple sends me into unconsciousness.  _

“I am here to help you fight against Hybern,” Tamlin says. 

“Bullshit!” Cassian snaps. 

Tamlin only glares and summons a stack of paper. “Even when I have information on Hybern’s movements?”

Doubtful glances pass between the gathered High Lords. “Why do you think I invited them to the house? Into my lands? I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that?” Tamlin sneers, his white teeth gleaming in the light. 

“It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.” He turns that sneer to Nesta and I. “Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?”

“Watch your mouth!” Mor growls at Tamlin. He snarls at the female, and Azriel growls at him. His eyes burn with barely restrained rage. Mor glances at him with an expression of sadness and hurt. 

“Who says they aren't working with Hybern? Who says this isn't all just a ploy to lower our defenses, to spy for his master?” Tamlin snaps. “How do you explain they alone received word on the attack in Adriata?”

“They received word,” one of the Summer Court males cuts in, “because  _ I  _ warned them of it.”

Tamlin shrugs. “Who's to say you're not working with them as well? You're next in line, after all.”

“You’re insane,” Feyre chokes out, her voice heavy with disbelief. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Hybern turned my sisters into Fae—after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!”

All of those eyes turn to stare at Nesta and I. Lifting my chin, I stare straight ahead, keeping my head high. 

Tamlin snorts. “Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress—I’m sure the trait runs in the family.”

Nesta barks out a cold laugh. “If you want someone to blame for all of this, perhaps you should first look in the mirror.”

Tamlin snarls at her, and Cassian leans forward and lets out a snarl of his own. “Watch it!” 

Those vivid green eyes linger on Cassian and Nesta before flicking to where Azriel and I sit. “Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.” His words spark a burning rage inside of me.

Feyre growls, “What do you want? An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?”

“Why should I want spoiled goods returned to me?”

My rage begins to simmer over. I lean forward in my seat, fixing Tamlin with a piercing glare. “Keep your petty grudge against my sister out of this meeting,” I say quietly. “She had her reasons for leaving you, and your actions today only prove you do  _ not  _ deserve my sister.” 

My face burns at the looks of disbelief coming from my friends and family. The High Lord’s green gaze burns into me, but I refuse to lower my chin. “We are here to discuss the war with Hybern. If all you came here to do was air your complaints, leave. If you came here to help, keep it to yourself.”

“You don't give me orders,” Tamlin says, his voice laced with disdain. 

He turns back to my sister and her mate. “The moment you let him fuck you like an—” His voice fades, and no sounds come out of his mouth. Tamlin’s eyes widen in surprise as he cannot even lose so much as a growl. 

Rhysand’s face is bored as he says, “The gasping-fish look is a good one for you, Tamlin.” Every other High Lord glances warily at Rhysand as they realize his power stole Tamlin’s ability to speak. 

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern, consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding,” Rhysand continues in that bored voice. “Yet here I am. Here we all are.”

The silence presses down on the gathering until the High Lord of the Summer Court leans forward. “Despite Varian’s unsanctioned warning, you were the only ones who came to help. The only ones. And yet you asked for nothing in return. Why?”

“Isn't that what friends do?” Rhysand counters, his voice hoarse. 

“I rescind the blood rubies. Let there be no debts between us.” 

“Don’t expect Amren to return hers. She’s grown attached to it,” Cassian chuckes. 

Rhysand turns to Tamlin. “I believe you. That you will fight for Prythian.”

“You may be inclined to believe him, Rhysand, but as someone who shares a border with his court, I am not so easily swayed. Perhaps my errant son can clarify. Pray, where is he?”  _ Lucien. He means Lucien.  _

The eyes of every Autumn Court male falls on me. Feyre only declares, “He is helping to guard our city.”

The eldest son, Eris I remember, snorts and gives me an appreciative glance. “I'm glad you brought his mate. She truly is a beauty. Too beautiful for my brother.”

Nesta and Azriel both snarl at him. Mor laughs coldly. “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things don’t change over the centuries.”

Eris returns the sickly sweet smile. “Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.”

One moment, I hear Azriel stop breathing. The next moment, he shatters the shield around Eris with a blast of blue flame and leaps on the male. His fists connect over and over with the other male's face. Wood splinters fly as the chair shatters beneath them. 

“Shit!” Cassian barks and leaps up. A wall of blue stops him in his tracks. Azriel’s hands move to Eris’s throat. 

“ _ Enough _ , Azriel!” Rhysand barks. 

I try to leap out of my seat, but those caressing shadows gently hold me in place. “Azriel!” I call to him. His hands loosen for a heartbeat before they tighten once more. 

Flames bounce off of the Siphon’s shield. Shadows writhe around the shield, consuming any flames before they can hurt others. “Azriel!” I call again. 

The desperation in my voice doesn't go unnoticed. Mor gives me a questioning look. Feyre rises to her feet and approaches the male. “Come, Azriel.” She extends a hand to him. 

The shadowsinger freezes and stares at my sister with unreadable grief in his eyes. Grief and icy rage and… love. With the force of storm winds, I realize that Azriel… loves Mor. A small part of my heart cracks with this knowledge.

He leans forward and whispers into Eris’s ear. The other male pales as Azriel climbs off of him and allows Feyre to escort him back to our seats. Azriel retakes his seat next to me. I refuse to meet his gaze. 

Feyre pours him a glass of wine, earning looks of bemusement. “They are my family. I don’t care if we are allies in this war. If you insult my friend again, I won’t stop him the next time.”

The meeting continues, but I do not hear the words being exchanged. My emotions surge forward again. Images of Graysen and Lucien swim in front of my eyes. I toy with the iron band around my finger. _We were to be married weeks ago. What does he make of my disappearance? Does he miss me?_ _Would he even accept me as I am?_

I feel Azriel gazing at me from time to time, but I ignore him as I remember the parting words of my mate.  _ The Cauldron has declared he to be the best match for me. We are bonded at the soul. Surely I must choose him? He, at least, is immortal as well.  _

A flicker of movement catches my attention. One of the shadows that still wrap around me, protecting me. The wonder in those hazel eyes as I came down the stairs. The warmth of his smiles. The understanding and compassion he gave me.  _ How can Azriel care for me when his feelings for Mor run so deep? How do I know they don't already have a bond, a relationship, that they are not sharing with the others? _

Harsh tones cut through the swirling images and thoughts. “My lady does not need to explain herself to you.”

Beron snorts and leans back in his chair. “Then I suppose I don’t need to explain my motivations, either.”

“Your staggering generosity aside, will you be joining our forces?” Rhysand asks, mirroring Beron. 

“I have not yet decided.”

“Armies take time to raise,” Cassian says, rising to his feet. “You don’t have the luxury of sitting on your ass. You need to rally your soldiers now.”

“I don’t take orders from the bastards of lesser fae whores.”

Nesta leaps to her feet, shooting Beron a look of steel-wrapped fury. “That bastard may wind up being the only person standing in the way of Hybern’s forces and your people. Get out if you aren't going to be useful.”

Beron dismisses my eldest sister with a sneer before turning to Feyre. “Did you know that while your  _ mate _ was warming Amarantha’s bed, most of our people were locked beneath that mountain?”

I feel a subtle shift in the air. Ice crackles around the edges of the reflection pool. “Did you know that while he had his head between her legs, most of us were fighting to keep our families from becoming the nightly entertainment?”

Tarquin eyes the water warily as it begins to shift and bubble. My sister’s expression remains a mask of disdain. “That's enough, Beron.”

“And now Rhysand wants to play hero. Amarantha’s Whore becomes Hybern’s Destroyer. But if it goes badly …” A cruel, cold smile. “Will he get on his knees for Hybern? Or just spread his legs once more?”

A spear of white-hot light and flame erupts from Feyre’s body, bouncing off of Beron’s shield. Some of the flames go wide, skimming the arm of Beron’s wife and Eris. The water from the pool engulfs Beron, and his flames cannot break through the shrinking bubble. 

“You’ve proved your point, my love,” Rhysand drawls. “Kill him, and horrible Eris will take his place.” Feyre must be speaking down the bond as Rhysand says, “As interesting an experiment as that might be, it would only complicate the matters at hand.”

The water dumps Beron to the ground. He leaps to his feet but does not attack. Without another word, he beckons to his family. His sons and wife winnow away. “This meeting is over. I hope Hybern butchers you all.”

Nesta walks to the middle of the room, eyeing everyone gathered. “This meeting is not over. You are all there is. You are all that there is between Hybern and the end of everything that is good and decent.” Her fierce gaze locks on Beron. “You fought against Hybern in the last war. Why do you refuse to do so now?”

No reply comes from the High Lord. “You may hate us. I don’t care if you do. But I do care if you let innocents suffer and die. At least stand for them. Your people. For Hybern will make an example of them. Of all of us.”

Beron scoffs. “And you know this how?”

“I went into the Cauldron. It showed me his heart. He will bring down the wall, and butcher those on either side of it.” She turns that intense gaze to the Winter Court. “I am sorry for the loss of those children. The loss of one is abhorrent, but beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death. Were it not for my sister … I would be among them.” 

The emotion in Nesta’s voice brings tears to my eyes. “If you fight for anything—fight now, to protect those you forgot. Let them know they’re not forgotten. Just this once.”

Many of the High Lords shake their head in disbelief. “The past is the past. What I care about is the road ahead. What I care about is making sure no children—Fae or human—are harmed. You have been entrusted with protecting this land.” She scans the faces around her, imploring them to understand. “How can you not fight for it?”

Beron simply says before winnowing away, “I will consider it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Azriel**

The meeting continues for a few more hours, but I ignore the bickering of the High Lords. My rage seethes inside of me, a beast given form. I feel ashamed for losing my temper and endangering the tenacious peace of the meeting. 

Mor’s face was pale and horrorstruck as Feyre led me to my chair. I noted her entire body shaking. Elain’s eyes were wide with an emotion I couldn't read. She refused to look at me for the rest of the meeting. Thesan offers us accommodations to continue discussing matters tomorrow. Every other High Lord agrees to spend the night. 

One of the attendants escorts us to large suit. Several bedrooms encircle a large sitting room. I mark all of the exits and windows, setting a shield to keep our words private around them. Rhys eyes the birdcage. I encircle the cage as well. 

“That went well. It would seem  _ none _ of us won our bet about who’d fight first,” Rhys says, his eyes sparkling with humor. 

I glance down at the floor, shame flooding through me. “I'm sorry.”

Rhys shrugs it off. “He had it coming.”

I walk to the large windows and drink in the spectacular view. Mor sprawls on one of the couches, and Cassian seats himself next to her and between us. Just as he always has been a wall or a buffer between us. 

Feyre and Mor shoot occasional worried glances at me, but I ignore them. My rage is too fresh, my emotions too raw, for me to talk to anyone. The scent of flowers and new soil draws my attention to Elain approaching me. She lays her soft hand on top of mine. 

“Are you alright?” she breathes, loud enough only I can hear her. 

Nesta bids everyone good night and returns to her room. Feyre and Rhysand communicate down the bond. Mor is pointedly ignoring us. I wrap my fingers around Elain’s and give her a subtle nod. 

She squeezes my hand and smiles at me. A knock on the door has everyone on their feet. “Don't open it,” Mor warns. 

Rhys grins at her and pulls open the door revealing Hellion on the threshold. The male swaggers in, his sharp eyes taking in the room and our positions. “How did you convince Thesan to give you a better view?”

Rhys closes the doors behind him and shrugs. “He finds my males prettier than yours.”

Cassian barks a laugh. My dark mood lightens a bit more. Hellion chuckles too. “It's probably a wing fetish.”

They exchange some more banter, but my attention falls on Elain. She rests her head on my shoulder as if to let me know I'm not alone. Hellion approaches us and clasps my shoulder. “Good on you for knocking Eris on his ass. That will be my fantasy for the rest of the night.”

I tense at the words, but I keep my attention focused outside the window. “I wondered when you would start coming onto us,” Cassian snorts. 

Elain shoots the High Lord a confused look before she meets my gaze again. I shrug in response. Hellion moves to the couch across from Mor and Cassian. “It's been four hundred years and you still won't accept my offer.”

“I don't like to share,” Mor says. 

Hellion chuckles. His voice grows low and seductive. “You never know until you try.”

The talk turns to troop movements and armies. I commit the information to memory. I move to an armchair in the far corner of the room. Elain brings two glasses of wine and sits in the chair next to mine. I don't miss the way Hellion gazes at Mor as her bare leg shows. Her brown eyes light up with interest, and they share a heated look. 

My burning anger transforms into something icy and brittle. My fingers clench the wine glass harder, but I keep my face neutral. Elain notices the shift of my hand and looks over to Hellion and Mor. Her eyes darken for a moment. 

I drain my glass of wine and walk onto the balcony overlooking a mountain range bathed in the warmth of dusk. Cassian shoots me a look as I walk out of the doors. I wrap myself in shadows and watch the stars come out in the skies. The others begin to retire to their rooms, but Hellion and Mor spend another hour conversing before they both enter her bedroom. 

My fingers tighten on the railing, leaving cracks in the stone. A crack forms in my heart as I imagine the two of them wrapped around each other. As the night passes, my emotions churn more and more around inside of me. Hot tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away.

Elain steps out onto the balcony. “Azriel?” she whispers. I let the magic fall away, and she comes to me immediately. Without a word, she wraps her hands around my waist. The embrace startles me, but I wrap my arms around her shoulders.

“I'm… I'm so sorry,” she chokes out. 

I shake my head. “Don't be sorry.” A hiccup escapes her throat, and I notice the tears streaming down her face. “Why are you crying?” I ask her. 

“I-I don't know…” she whispers. “I really don't. I… you're a good friend, Azriel. I hate seeing you hurting like this.”

_ She considers me a friend?  _ I brush the tears from her face. “Don't waste your tears on me, Elain. Save them for someone worthy of them.”

“How can you say that?” 

“I'm not the one you should be crying for. I have only myself to blame for this heartache. For loving someone that could never return my feelings.”

“No, you're not,” Elain says. She moves to stand on the edge of the balcony. “I… you can't help who you love. I've come to realize that.” 

Her fingers begin toying with the band of iron around her finger. “I… I still dream about Graysen. I still wake up some mornings wishing everything was just a nightmare, that I will soon be marrying him.”

“Is he a good man?” I ask.

“Yes,” Elain breathes. “Yes, he is, but… he and his father despise your… I mean, our kind. I know he would not consent to marry me, but I… I still hold out hope that we will still wed.”

“I'm sorry, Elain. I'm sorry we couldn't protect you,” I say.

She shakes her head at me. “None of this is your fault. This was the result of Hybern, and I should be grateful for what I have. I  _ will  _ learn to be grateful…”

“It is still quite an adjustment. No one blames you for taking the time you need to adapt. You are not alone.”

“I know. I remember your words to me… they've given me hope when I might not otherwise have found any. I'm grateful I met the others. I just wish…”

“What is it?”

Elain sighs. “I have a mate. In a way, I feel I have less freedoms than I did as a mortal.”

“The bond doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to. You do are not obligated to accept it if you don't wish to.”

Her face lightens at this. “I was told Lucien and I would feel compelled to be together.”

“The bond will never truly fade. The draw will always exist, but you can choose another male, or female, for yourself. It is entirely your choice.”

She casts me a doubtful look. “Fae males are possessive. What's to stop him from claiming me as his?”

The thought stills my blood. “Do you truly believe I would allow that? Rhysand, your sisters? If he took you against your will, I would tear this world apart.”

“Why? Why would you do that? For me?”

“Isn't that what friends do?” I offer her a soft smile that she returns after a moment of hesitation. 

Nesta bursts into the sitting room before Elain can say another word. We both rush to her. “Something is wrong. We need to leave.  _ Now. _ ”  

I knock on Rhysand’s door and he appears a moment later. Cassian glides into the room from the balcony. He goes to Nesta. “What is it?”

“I-I don't know. Something feels… wrong. We need to go home. Now.”

Cassian nods. “We will sweep the area. We can't leave until the meeting is over tomorrow.” 

I winnow into the night, casting my shadows out like a net. No signs of stealth or magical concealment or danger. Rhysand and Cassian join me in searching the entire palace and surrounding area for danger, but we find nothing amiss. 

Elain and Feyre sit with Nesta until we return. “There is nothing amiss here.”

The eldest sister levels a cold glance my way. “You don't believe me.”

“No, I do. You have a gift, Nesta. We would be fools to ignore you.”

“Good,” Elain says. “There  _ is  _ something going on but… I can't see what. I feel that ancient malice again. It searches for… something that was stolen from it, always searching. I can never see it. I can just feel it, waiting to strike. Always waiting to strike.”

“We will deal with this, I promise,” Rhysand says as he walks into the room. “For now, we pretend nothing is wrong. We don't need to cause panic for nothing. Yet.”

Nesta glares at him but nods. Without another word, she returns to her room. I cut a glance to Mor’s closed door before offering to keep watch for the rest of the night. The others retire to their rooms. 

The first hints of color stain the eastern sky as Hellion slips from our suite on nearly silent feet. I ignore him from where I stand, hidden from sight, on the balcony. An hour later, the others begin emerging from the rooms one by one. Elain and Nesta are the first to begin the morning meal, but Nesta only picks at her food. Her expression is worried, preoccupied. 

I join them at the table, ignoring the exhaustion weighing me down. Cassian sits down at the table, only offering polite greetings that tell me he has been up all night too. Mor slips from her room immaculately dressed and groomed. 

The ache in my chest tightens at the sight of her. I feel Elain staring at me, but I ignore it and focus on the food in front of me. After Rhysand and Feyre appear from their rooms, both dressed for battle, I excuse myself and search for any sign of trouble. The palace remains silent. 

I reappear in the sitting room as my High Lord and Lady finish their breakfast. I give Rhys a subtle nod to let him know all is quiet. Nesta paces around the room, as if she were a caged animal, her face still lined with worry. We all make our way to the meeting chamber, but Elain falls behind when she stops to lean against a pillar. 

I wait for the others to move ahead before going back to her. “What is it?”

She looses a long, shuddering breath. Her eyes are filled with shadows, and the color in her cheeks is missing. “I… I don’t know. I still  _ feel  _ that thing… whatever it is… growing stronger, but still missing something. It remains with its master, in one place, but it still... searches for something. I keep seeing it, but I can’t see what it is. I feel it there, watching and waiting, but I can never find out what it is.” 

Her words unsettle something deep inside of me. This isn’t some random vision, not with her and Nesta both feeling as if something is wrong. I want to be moving, searching, but I must remain with my High Lord. I must protect my friends… especially Mor. Especially… Elain. “I promise, we will investigate the moment the meeting is over. Drawing attention to something being… off might cause this entire alliance to fall apart.  With Hybern bearing down on us, we  _ need  _ the help of the others if we stand any chance of escaping this war alive.” 

“I understand,” Elain whispers. Without another word, she continues down the path towards the chamber. I pull back my hand that reached for her and clench the fist at my side. I follow after her, savoring the scent of wildflowers left in her wake. 

I take a seat between Cassian and a member of the Day Court, ignoring the curious glances of the others. Elain sits between Nesta and Feyre. The meeting begins with Hellion and Tamlin exchanging terse words. As I drink in the words, I notice the eyes of the High Lady and Elain turn to their eldest sister. 

Nesta lets out a sharp breath and leaps to her feet, clutching her stomach. Feyre stumbles trying to reach her sister, but Mor catches her instead. Elain clutches at her head, letting out a low moan. I make my way to her as Cassian rushes to Nesta’s side, just in time for her to vomit into the calm reflection pool. 

I catch Elain as she almost falls out of the chair. I clutch her to my chest as she moans her pain again. “It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming,” she whispers over and over again. Hellion and Thesan approach Nesta, their magic searching for anything amiss, but they both shake their heads. “Something is wrong. Not me, not with me,” Nesta manages to get out through her heaving. 

Awareness lights up Feyre and Rhysand’s eyes.  _ It has to be the Cauldron. Nesta has a connection to it through her magic, her powers. The king must be using the vile thing for something.  _

Cassian nods, and, with one last glance at Nesta, leaps out of the window to begin investigating. Nesta moans with an animalistic sound once more. Elain screams in pain, and before I can give Elain to Rhysand, the world stills for a breath before it shudders. The very earth beneath our feet groans. Magic tingles in the air. Such powerful magic. 

The palace, the mountain, the very ground itself shakes and lets out a noise. I shield against debris falling from the ceiling, and Rhysand sends out a spear of his power to find out what caused the disturbance. Frantic voices from the eyes I have placed everywhere reach me as Rhys’s eyes widen.  _ The wall has fallen, my lord. The wall has been… destroyed. Utterly destroyed.  _

“What in the hell was that?” Hellion spits out. 

Rhysand opens his mouth and closes it. His throat bobs a few times before he can speak, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “The wall… the wall is gone. The king used the Cauldron to completely shatter the wall. Here and on the continent.”

Nesta sinks to the floor, gasping for air. Elain remains unconscious in my arms as the others begin to winnow away. Hurried plans to gather in the southern courts and plans of evacuating Spring Court citizens are made before we return to Velaris. Guilt and shame flood through me.  _ How did I miss the signs again? How is the king hiding his forces from me? His armies? The location of the Cauldron?  _


	10. Chapter 10

**Elain**

My eyelids open slowly, heavily when I awaken. I hear a soft, steady breathing somewhere above me. “Elain? You're awake!” The relief in Nesta’s voice unsettles me. I have rarely heard so much emotion in it. 

“What happened?” I ask. “How long have I been… asleep?” 

“The… wall. It's gone,” Nesta says. “You have only been here for a few hours. The others are making plans.”

I throw back the covers, ignoring the spinning in my head. Nesta leaps to her feet and tries to push me down onto the bed. “We need to be there,” I insist. 

I sidestep Nesta and head to the wardrobe to dress. “You need to rest!” 

I whirl around to face my sister. “This is war! I can't fight, but we still can help. We can give ideas and a new perspective.”

Nesta opens her mouth then closes it. She gives me a curt nod and leaves the room. I dress quickly and find the others sitting around the dining room table. Azriel's hazel eyes move to me the moment I appear on the stairs. 

“We should have evacuated months ago…” Nesta sighs. She shakes her head. 

“We can go back tonight and evacuate your household,” Rhysand says. 

“They won't come! They will insist they're friends and families come with.”

Silence falls again. An idea comes to my mind, even as my healing heart quails at the thought. “We can move them to Graysen’s estate.”

All eyes turn towards me. I swallow the lump in my throat, praying my voice will not shake. Nesta looks as if she will insist I remain here, safe and hidden. I refuse to cower any longer. “His father has high walls, and there is plenty of space for people and supplies. He has been planning for something like this for a long time. There is an entire grove of ash trees, and… a stockroom full of weapons. Ash weapons.”

Cassian lets out an almost silent snarl. Azriel and Rhysand exchange a glance. “If the Fae attacking have magic, those walls won't stand a chance,” Cassian points out. 

I think for a moment. “There are escape tunnels underneath the estate. They would be better than nothing.”

“We can set up a guard--” 

I shake my head. “No. Grayson and his father…”

“Then we cloak--” 

“They have hounds. Hounds bred to scent and kill your kind.”

Cassian's eyes burn with anger, but I can almost hear the different strategies forming in his mind. “We can't leave the castle defenseless.”

“I will speak to Graysen,” I announce firmly.

“No!” Feyre and Nesta exclaim together. 

I shoot a glare in their direction. “If you come with me… your Fae scent will distract the dogs.”

“You are Fae, too,” Nesta reminds me, her voice soft. 

I turn to my sister's mate. “Glamour me. Make me look mortal again. I can speak to him about opening his gates and maybe allowing wards to be set.”

Feyre steps forward. “This could end badly, Elain.”

“It's already ended badly. The wall has fallen. We cannot sit by and do nothing as the humans are slaughtered.”

Mor offers me an approving smile before turning to Cassian. They begin to make a plan. I sink onto one of the couches. Azriel gives me a smile that warms me to my toes before he and Mor vanish. 

Rhysand approaches me, a concerned look on his face. “Are you sure about this?”

I nod.  _ I have to be ready. For Azriel, for my sisters… for the innocent of this world… I have to be ready. _ An image of my mortal fiance's face floats into my mind.  _ I want to see him once more though. I need to see him again. _

Fear sparks in both of my sister's eyes as they stare at me. Feyre glances at the iron band still around my finger. “Elain, I need you to know that if this goes badly…”

“You will defend your own,” I cut in. 

Her blue eyes harden. “No, I will defend  _ you _ .”

The veiled threat behind her words breaks something deep inside of me. I push against the wave of grief threatening to consume me. “No matter what, do  _ not  _ kill him. Please.”

“We'll try, but--” 

I get to my feet and level a glare at Feyre. “ _ Swear it. _ ” The words come out with a ferocity that has everyone in the room assessing me with caution. 

“I can't make that promise, but I will do everything in my power to prevent that.”

Deep in my heart, I know she is right. She and the others will do whatever it takes to protect each other, to protect me. I take a deep breath and move towards the stairs. My dress is too plain, too practical for me to wear to someone who still views me as the human daughter of a rich merchant. “I'm going to go dress.”

Nesta offers to help, but I turn her down. I need time to collect my whirling thoughts. As I enter the silent bedroom, the two wraiths appear from the shadows, small smiles on their faces. 

Nuala holds a set of Illyrian fighting leathers in her arms. They are so similar to the ones Feyre wears frequently. I glance down at my gown and rub the soft material. “I… I've never worn pants before,” I admit, feeling foolish.

Cerridwen offers me a reassuring smile. “They are better suited for where you are going.”

“I will need a gown to meet Graysen though,” I remind her. No doubt both females already know of our plans. 

“They are a gift,” Nuala says. 

“From who?” I ask. 

“Azriel.” I look at the rich brown leathers again. The sound of his name radiates through me.“The High Lord can glamor you so it looks as if you are wearing a gown.”

I nod my consent. The shadowsinger knows what we are walking into better than I do. The females help me dress into the soft, fur-lined leathers. The pants hug my legs, but they are not as restrictive as the skirts I am used to wearing. 

My hair is swept back into an elegant, yet practical, knot at the back of my head. Nuala leads me to the mirror to admire the effect. Staring back at me is a warrior. Not one trained in combat, but still willing to go forth and face whatever dangers may come her way. The clock chimes the hour, so I descend the stairs, into an unknown threat of battle and war. 

When I get to the foyer, my eyes are drawn to Azriel. He and Cassian wear magnificent black armor, Siphons decorating their entire bodies. The shadows that wrap around Azriel add to the appearance of a dark god of death. Though my heart skips a beat, I don't let my emotions show.

Nesta’s eyes are sharp as she takes in my new fighting leathers, but she says nothing. I go stand next to Azriel, but I refuse to look at him. He looks regal and terrifying in his battle armor. Mor gives us both a curious look, but she also remains quiet. 

_ Broken wings, vacant eyes, and the sound of hundreds of groaning voices assault my senses. The ground drinks the blood of the dead and injured faeries around me. I search the faces for ones I recognize, but I see none.  _

_ A piercing cry pulls my attention to the sky. Flames streak across the sky, towards the eastern sea. The fire queen. Ships approach, countless ships, fly across the water.  Flags of various colors whip in the breeze. The cry of the firebird echoes across the water again, but it is one of triumph and joy rather than sorrow and rage.  _

I let out a small gasp as the vision fades. The others don't hear me. I put the images away to examine and mull over later.  Azriel extends his hand to me as we prepare to winnow to the northern Illyrian camps. His scarred skin feels warm and familiar. 

The blue sky peeks out between the clouds and illuminates the pine covered mountains and small, stone buildings as we appear in the clearing of the war camps. Countless winged males mill around, training or carrying materials around the camp. A small group of Illyrians greets us, looking less than pleased to see us. Feyre beckons for us to remain a few steps back from the males. 

Terse words are exchanged between Rhysand and the other males. One of them, the leader I assume, looks at my eldest sister with an expression of revulsion. “What is  _ that _ ?” 

Cassian steps between the camp lord and Nesta. “That is none of your concern.”

The glare moves to the general. “Is she a witch?” 

Nesta takes a step forward, chin held high, “Yes.”

I bite back a laugh as the entire retinue of fierce warriors flinch. Feyre puts her hands on Nesta’s shoulder. “Let's go find something warm to drink. I follow my sisters and Mor to a large black tent with a sigil sewn into the fabric. 

A pale pink gown appears in the tent. “I think you should wear a gown, just in case the glamour fails,” Feyre says. I sigh and quickly change into the gown. Nesta arranges some of my hair to hide the pointed tips of my ears. 

The realization hits me. I'll be seeing him in a short time. My heart pounds against my ribs, leaving me feeling slightly faint and dizzy. I sink into a chair to keep my knees from buckling. 

_ The groans of hundreds of voices reaches my ears from the large field soaked in blood and other body fluids. I overlook the carnage from the top of small hill.  _

_ Azriel appears beside me, black blood splattering his blade and armor. His Siphons are dull. I am relieved to know he's unharmed, but the broken wings and cries of the dying tell another story.  _

_ The shadows hide his eyes, but I can read the grief in his shoulders. I interlace my fingers with his as the sound of battle fade.  _

“Will many of these soldiers die?” The words come out unbidden, my voice shaking. 

My sisters exchange a look. “Yes.” 

Mor approaches me quickly and says she is ready to apply the glamour. 

“Will it hurt?” I ask stupidly. 

“No, it might tingle. Just… act as you did when you were human,” Mor replies. 

“It's the same as how I act now,” I snap. I begin to toy with the iron ring around my finger. 

Feyre crouches next to me, her voice soft and even as she says, “Yes, but keep the vision talk to yourself. Unless it's something you can't…”

I rise to my feet with the grace of a queen, meeting the eyes of each of the females gathered with my chin held high. “I know what I have to do.”

We appear outside of the towering stone walls, the large gates barring entrance to the sprawling estate beyond. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I approach the gates and announce myself to the guards and we are escorted into the guardhouse. The hounds pull at their tethers, growling savagely. 

The air grows thick with tension as time passes. Feyre grows restless beside me, but her face never betrays it. Nesta observes her with her usual calculating gaze. “Sometimes… I have problems with small spaces,” Feyre admits in a whisper, breaking the silence.

Nesta nods. “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.” 

The guards outside of our room begin to stir. I fight to keep my breathing even, my face neutral, even though I know the others can hear it galloping against my ribs. Feyre’s voice is kind when she says, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.” 

Azriel’s head cocks to the side. “Two dozen guards.” Rhysand nods. The shadowsinger casts a cautioned look in my direction. “And Lord Graysen and his father, Lord Nolan.”

All of the air leaves my chest as boots crunch on gravel outside of the door. Every thought and feeling drains from my mind as the door crashes open to reveal my betrothed. His blue eyes lock onto me immediately as a strangled sound escapes my throat. I swallow back the tears as he looks me over from head to toe. 

A large hand pulls Graysen back as he tries to take a step towards me. Lord Nolan’s sharp, gray eyes take in the sight of my sisters and companions. “What is the meaning of this.” 

My entire body quakes like a leaf. “Sir… Lord Nolan…” The lump in my throat chokes back the words as Graysen shrugs off his father’s hand. He doesn’t come closer, but our eyes have not left each other.  _ Maybe… maybe there still is hope.  _

Nesta steps up beside me. “The wall has come down.” 

My fiance moves his eyes to my sister, and he freezes when he takes in her otherworldly beauty and the… power surrounding her. “How.” His voice cracks. 

“I was kidnapped. I was taken by the army invading these lands and turned against my will,” my sister replies, her voice cool and even. 

“How,” Lord Nolan says. 

Nesta briefly explains the Cauldron, Hybern, and the motivations of the human queens as I continue to stare at Graysen. My heartbeat refuses to slacken its pace. It hangs over a bottomless, dark abyss suspended by a fragile string of hope.  _ Look at me, look at me, look at me.  _

“And who are your companions?” 

Feyre steps forward this time. She gives brief introductions to Rhysand, Mor, and Azriel. Graysen’s face pales as he turns back to me. “Elain,” he breathes. “Elain… why are you with them?” 

“Because she is our sister, and there is no safer place for her during this war than with us,” Nesta answers. 

“Graysen…” Saying his name both cracks and heals something deep inside of my ravaged heart.  “We’ve come to beg you, both of you, to open your gates to any humans who can get here. To families. With the wall down… there isn’t enough time for an evacuation. The queens won’t send aid, but they might stand a chance here.” 

I hold my breath as Graysen stares at me. His expression changes from one of shock and hurt to one of anger as he glances down at the iron band still on my finger. “I would be inclined to believe you if you weren’t lying to me with your every breath.” 

The words burn me like a brand. “I-I am not. I-” 

Lord Nolan steps forward, his own face betraying his fury. My sisters move closer to me. “Did you think that you could come into  _ my  _ house and deceive me with your faerie magic?” 

“We don’t care what you believe. WE only come to ask you to help those who cannot defend themselves,” Rhysand cuts in. He keeps his tone casual, but there is a veiled anger underneath of it. 

“At what gain? What risk to your own?”

“You have an arsenal of ash weapons. I’d think the risk to us is apparent,” Feyre says. 

I almost shrink under Nolan’s glare. “And your sister as well. Don’t forget to include her.” He spits the words out as if they are venom. 

“Any weapon can hurt a mortal,” Mor cuts in lazily. 

Nolan scoffs. He sneers at me, stopping on my ears. “She isn’t mortal, is she?” 

His words freeze my blood.  _ No… no they can’t know. There’s no way they can know.  _

“No, I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned Fae first, and who has a High Lord’s son as a  _ mate _ .” 

Graysen looks at me with something akin to disgust, and the world begins to slip out from under my feet. My healing heart crumbles to dust as the last of my hope unravels. I plummet into the abyss waiting for me. 

A few more words are exchanged, but I don't hear them over the silence in my head. I can't tear my eyes from Graysen, and he hasn't broken the stare either. 

Tears burn in my eyes, but I blink them back. At the name of the lost queen, my mind clears for a moment. I remember where we are and why we came. I look at my betrothed, begging him to understand. “I did not mean to deceive you.”

Lord Nolan scoffs. “I find that hard to believe.”

Graysen swallows hard. “Did you think you could come back here and live with me? Live with this lie?”

I shake my head. “I… I don't know what I wanted.”

“You are bound to a Fae male… a  _ High Lord _ ’ _ s  _ son.”

“His name is Lucien,” I blurt out. I want to clap my mouth closed, but his name soothes a bit of the hurt in my chest. 

Graysen’s eyes harden. “I don't care what his name is. You are his  _ mate _ . Do you know what that means?”

His words spark an anger deep inside of me. I belong to no-one. I am my own person. “It means  _ nothing.  _ I don't care who decided it! The bond means  _ nothing  _ to me.”

“You belong to him.”

“I belong to  _ no one _ !” I screech. “He does not own me. My heart does not belong to anyone but you.”

The look of shock vanishes quickly and morphs into one of fury and hatred. “I don't want it,” he says quietly. 

Those four words hit me deep inside of my soul, driving the air from my lungs. Everything around me vanishes into darkness. I hold still, afraid a slight movement will shatter my body as well. 

The voices of my sisters echo around me, but I can't make out the words. The world has ended. The world has stopped. Why are they still talking, still trying? 

“Take the ring off.”

The words are like blades. “No.” It comes out a strangled whisper. I clench my fists tighter.

“Take. It. Off.” 

I shake my head. 

“Take it off!” Graysen roars at me. I only raise my eyes to his and say nothing. Rhysand steps forward, pushing me farther away from him. 

Tense words are exchanged, but the raging hole inside of me consumes me again. I look down at the stone floor, praying for the world to end so this grief and hurt will end.

“I am not marrying you.  _ Ever.  _ I will take the people I can here, but not you. Never you.”

Those last words unlock the tears. They slide down my face. Nesta approaches Graysen and smacks him. I don't hear the words they say, but Graysen glances at me once more with anger in his eyes. 

We winnow back to the war camp, and Nesta leads me to a soft bed. I sink into the mattress as the tears flow again. I begin to drown in a sea of tears and despair and blackness with no desire to surface again. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Azriel**

“Because Tamlin ran right back to Hybern after your meeting ended this morning. Right to their camp in the Spring Court, where Hybern now plans to launch a land assault on Summer tomorrow.”

The moment the words leave Jurian’s lips, I winnow to the war camp. Cassian paces around the commander's tent, studying the maps in front of him. None of the other warriors say a word. 

“Leave us,” he barks when he notices me. The others hurry out, muttering under their breaths. Cassian’s hazel eyes meet mine. “What is it?”

“Everyone is alright,” I say. My thoughts turn to Elain. The devastation and grief on her face… I shake my head to clear it. “Jurian says…”

“ _ Jurian? _ ” Cassian spits out. His gaze burns with anger. “What in the  _ hell  _ are you doing associating with  _ Jurian _ ?!” He throws his hands up in frustration and walks to the tent entrance. 

“Calm down, brother,” I say. “I promise I will explain everything later. Hybern is planning on attacking Tarquin’s lands tomorrow. We need to mobilize the troops, now.” 

The smoldering rage dims slightly, but Cassian’s shoulders remain taut. He nods before exiting the tent, barking orders to pack up camp and be ready to march. Not one soldier makes a noise of complaint. I winnow to the Summer Court lands to begin scouting. 

Several hours later, I winnow to the side of my High Lord, deep in discussion with Cassian and the camp leaders. I studiously ignore Keir. All eyes turn to me as I step forward, indicating a field that would make a perfect ambush place. Rhys and Cassian give me warm smiles, despite the weight of the upcoming battle on their shoulders. 

I walk towards my tent, moving silently through the sleeping camp, when the sound of sobbing catches my attention. Nesta sits at the fire with Mor and Feyre. I slip into their tent to find Elain huddled into a tight ball in her bed. She lifts her tear-streaked face as I kneel beside the cot. Our hands find each other, the skin of hers is icy. “Azriel…” she chokes out. 

“I’m sorry, Elain.” The grief in her eyes threatens to drive the air from my chest. A mirror to the pain in my mother’s face the night she died. Her sobs begin again, so I shift her into my arms, offering the only thing I can: a shoulder to cry on. I stroke her hair softly until her crying subsides into soft sighs and hiccups. 

Her flower and green scent wraps around me. “How… how do you stand it, Azriel?” she whispers into the darkness. I wipe the tears from her swollen eyes. 

I cock my head to one side, weighing her question. “What do you mean?” 

“Morrigan.” My heart leaps at the sound of her name. I fight to keep my face neutral and calm, even though I know Elain can’t see it in the darkness of her tent. Her tone is gentle and soothing. “I… I’ve seen the way you look at her.” 

Shaking my head, I pull my hand away from Elain. The warmth drains from my body. “Mor has no idea how I feel about her.” 

Elain lays her hand on my shoulder. “Yes, she does. I think it scares her though.” 

I let out a humorless chuckle and rest my head on my hands. “Mor deserves so much better than me.” 

The grip on my shoulder tightens. I turn towards Elain to see all signs of sadness replaced by… fury. “How can you say that?” I simply shake my head. She wraps her arms around my chest, pulling me towards her. “I can’t believe you see it that way. It’s… it’s not a good way to live your life.” 

I savor the warmth of her thin body. “In the weeks after Hybern, I didn’t want to exist anymore. I  _ hated _ that I had been turned Fae. My life as a human had little purpose, so I wanted to do as much as I could to help my father. A good marriage would help him build connections. Graysen was kind and sweet, and I fell in love with him.  Then… they came. After that, every moment I was in Velaris, I wished I hadn’t come out of the Cauldron.” 

“Elain…” 

“The visions almost drove me insane. I stopped being able to tell dream from reality. Then… you helped me. You didn’t look at me with worry or pity. I was able to have a normal conversation for the first time in weeks, as if you could see past the visions to the real me sleeping there. I never thanked you for that…” Her words trail off. She breathes a heavy sigh. “I think… the feeling of being useless grew when I came to Velaris. I saw the ways you all could help my sister and Rhysand. Nesta often spoke of the magic she felt stirring in her when she visited with me. I felt… nothing. I couldn’t do anything to help with the war. I was a burden.” 

“I knew… I have known for a long time just how weak I really am. I watched my fourteen year old sister walk into cursed woods to feed us, and I did nothing to stop her. For five years, I watched her leave the house every day, never knowing if she would return at night. I never even thanked her for risking her life for us!” Elain’s voice cracks as tears begin flowing down her face again. “I hated myself every day after she left for Prythian. I never thanked her, I never told her how much she meant to me. The day she came home was the best day in my life. Finally, I had a chance to build a relationship with my sister again. I could start over.” 

I lift Elain onto the bed, sitting next to her as she sobs into my shoulder. “Then… she left again. She went back to Prythian, intending to free the Spring Court, even if it meant sacrificing her life. I watched her march into the face of death, and I did  _ nothing  _ to stop or help her. That moment made me realize just how truly weak I was. It’s the reason I made Nesta let us use the estate for the meetings with the queens. Feyre had sacrificed so much for us, so it was our turn.” 

“I… understand. My mother died because I couldn’t protect her.” 

“That day in Hybern… I could do nothing to help. You and Cassian were injured, my sister was dragged away by Tamlin, and… I had everything ripped away from me. Now, we’re going to war, and I still can’t do anything to help. I can’t fight, I don’t know anything about healing, and my visions can’t find Hybern’s army. No matter how hard I look, all I can see is a skeletal figure in a tattered robe.” 

“The Suriel…” I whisper.

“What’s that?” she asks. 

“A type of Fae that… knows things. Your sister has spoken to it multiple times, but I would advise you not go seeking it.” I clutch both of Elain’s hands in my own and meet her gaze. “Please, Elain, I am asking you to stay here during the battle. You risked a great deal facing Graysen to ask him to help defend those that can’t fight for themselves. Only you can decide the course your life takes, but I believe you have the strength to make it a better place. That is why we all fight. Hope for a better world.” 

“A better world…” she breathes. Her brown eyes are determined as she meets mine. I see her cheeks flushing. “Promise me that you will come back from that battle. I… I think the world would be a much darker place without you in it, Azriel.” 

Her words spark something deep inside of me. Warmth, hope, and… confusion. I push the feelings down. I will evaluate them later, away from prying eyes. “I promise.” 

She nods and leans her head against my shoulder. “Can you stay a little longer?” 

“Of course.”

⧪

Cassian’s bellow echoes across the field. My Siphons flare to life as I raise my shield. Red, blue, and green glow lights up the field as we descend upon the lines of that never-ending army. I admire the bravery the Illyrians around me when their faces don’t betray the panic at the sheer amount of troops we have to fight. There is no time for fear, no time for mercy, and no time for wavering. 

Mor and Feyre stand atop a hill, overlooking the battle. A part of my mind keeps watch over them. Cassian and Rhys are spread out among the front lines, their helmets the only difference in their armor. Another shout from Cassian has the Illyrians and Darkbringers charging towards the Hybern lines. I feel Rhysand’s magic moving through the field, awaiting the command to kill. 

The males around me fight as one solid unit. Where sword and shield fail, Siphons and magic kill. It is a dance of grace and bloodletting. My blade sings through the air as we cut down soldier after soldier. The faces of both Elain and Mor swim through my mind as the battle rages on. Shadows dance along my blade and armor, piercing the magical shields of Hybern’s troops. 

As we cut through the lines, many of the soldiers begin to flee. I see Cassian step from the front lines to face one of the commanders that refuses to turn tail. I let out a dark chuckle as my brother cuts down his opponents with ease. His long shield lays on the ground as he begins his dash across the battlefield. His dance of death and steel begins. 

The dark shaft  flies towards Cassian, but he catches it on the shield before discarding both of them. A second spear finds its way into his hands as the commander begins to run towards the river. He is spurring his mount onward when the projectile finds its mark. A perfect throw. Everyone on the field pauses.The horse runs on without its rider. The rest of Hybern’s army begins to panic. 

Tarquin and Rhysand share a few brief words before my High Lord nods to Summer. The bloodied blue cloak and imposing helmet make the captured enemies cower in fear. A few are dragged away a moment before the others begin thrashing. Cassian and Rhysand approach me as the other captains find us. Plans are made to move the camp to the borders of Winter. A flick of a Rhys’ wrist has the corpses disappearing into the wind. 

The injured troops are brought to the new camp as we seclude ourselves into the command tent for the remaining hours of daylight. As night is falling, we break up the meeting and retire for the night. I approach the fire where Nesta and Feyre are cutting bandages for the healers. I slip into the shadows before anyone notices me and go to Elain’s tent. I hear her inside. 

Voices reach me from the tent. Nesta’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “You’re hurt.” 

I hear Cassian respond, his voice tight with exhaustion and pain.  _ How did I not notice?  _ Nesta makes him sit and tends the wound. After a few minutes, I hear Mor’s voice. My shoulders relax knowing she is safe. “You got hurt?” she asks. I catch the anger in her eyes as she glares at Nesta before turning to Cassian. They fall into their usual banter as the eldest Archeon sister dashes away with the water pitcher. 

Leaning against the fabric of Elain’s tent, I take a deep breath. My heart aches at the sound of Mor laughing and joking with Cassian.  _ How do you stand it, Azriel?  _

_ I don't, Elain. I don't stand it. I've just learned to keep my feelings locked deep inside of me. An abyss exists where my heart should be. The shadows consumed it long ago.  _

Rustling from inside the tent catches my attention. Elain’s face peeps out from the opening in her tent, scanning the faces around the fire. I sneak past her and sit on her narrow cot. Elain jumps when she turns around, clutching her hand to her chest. “Azriel!” 

A small smile spreads across my face. “Hello, Elain.” 

Her face brightens with a warm smile. “I… I'm glad you are safe.” Her cheeks flush again. She joins me on the edge of the bed and throws her arms around my shoulders. “I was worried…” 

“Are you okay?” I ask. 

“I… I saw my father. He was talking to humans I didn't recognize, but… he's safe.” The exhaustion and grief in her voice has faded. A small ember of hope kindles in her eyes. “I can't see the queens or Lucien, but my father is safe.” 

“I'm glad to hear that.” The sound of Mor and Cassian laughing reaches us. Elain doesn't miss my fists clenching, and her soft hand moves to rest atop my scarred skin. 

“If you need to talk…” 

I shake my head. The shadows begin to writhe inside of the tent. Talking with Elain has awoken the mass of emotions I have kept inside for centuries. Mor’s smiling face passes through my mind. I scramble to my feet, and winnow into the skies without a word to Elain. 

Tears leak from my eyes as I fly around the camp. The wind and darkness sing to me, a haunting lament echoing the grief threatening to crack me open.  _ We are in the middle of a war. There is no time to be sulking over foolish things like this.  _ I wipe my eyes. 

_ When do you ever make time for this?  _ I ignore the snide remark and return to the camp. I find Elain warming her hands around the dying fire. She looks up and smiles when she sees me. 

“Azriel… are you alright?” 

“I thought I heard something approaching the camp, but it was nothing.” The lie tastes foul in my mouth. Elain sighs softly and pulls me into an embrace again. 

“If you ever need to talk, Azriel, I am here for you. You don't have to face everything alone, you know.”

“There are some things that I can't drag someone else into. The people close to me… tend to meet bad ends.” 

Her smile turns into a look of confusion. “What does that mean?”

“My mother died because of me, Elain. I couldn't protect her. She was eventually killed because she gave birth to me.” Images of that night threaten to surface. “I avenged her death, but… that didn't bring her back.”  _ That was the moment everything good in me died too.  _

“It wasn't your fault.” Elain grips my hands tightly, and I meet her innocent gaze. “You were a  _ child.  _ The person who killed your mother is the one to blame. Not you. Azriel, you can't let this… guilt consume you. How can you hope to make a better world if you allow the past to weigh you down?” 

“It already has consumed me.”

“Then fight it! It is never too late to change… you taught me that.” 

“Elain… I'm a broken male. Rhys and Cassian saved me and taught me the things I needed to know to become a full Illyrian warrior. I owe them a life debt that I can never repay. That's the only thing that has spurred me forward these past five hundred years.” 

She shakes her head. “You're wrong. You may say you are broken and empty, but I don't believe you. You share your friend’s hope for a better world. In the end, only you can decide the direction your life takes. It's never too late to change.” 

Elain leaves a swift kiss on my cheek before darting into her tent. I lightly touch the place she kissed me and watch the fire die.


	12. Chapter 12

**Elain**

The day dawns bright and clear, but the groans of the injured Illyrians and bustle of the war camp has me hesitating to leave my tent. What place do I have here among these warriors? Eventually, my growling stomach drives me out in search of food. Feyre and Nesta sit around a fire, balancing plates of gruel and a meat of some kind on their knees. The males are nowhere to be found. 

“Elain!” Nesta gasps when she catches sight of me. “I didn’t know you were awake.” My older sister looks… disheveled. Her usually pristine gown is rumpled, and the knot of her hair has come loose. She pulls me into a strong hug, squeezing the air from my lungs. 

“I’m fine, Nesta,” I assure her. Both her and Feyre study me with their sharp blue eyes. “I… feel better.” 

Feyre approaches me and embraces me as well. “I’m glad to see you up and out of your tent. I have a meeting to attend with Rhysand in a few minutes.” 

“What can I do to help?” I ask firmly before either can suggest I return to my tent. My sisters exchange a look that instantly irritates me. “I am  _ fine _ . I’m not going to break.” 

Feyre looks guilty, but Nesta continues to study me with her steely gaze. I meet her eyes and stare right back. After a few moments, she nods. “I… I think I’ll return to help the healers today. I feel I’m in the way everywhere else. Would you like to join me?” 

“I don’t know anything about healing,” I admit. 

“The healers could always use extra hands to carry water or cut bandages,” Feyre assures me. “You won’t be in the way there at all, Elain.” 

After a quick breakfast, I join Nesta at the healer’s part of the camp. The groans of the injured grow louder as we approach, but I steel myself against the bile rising up in my throat. The day passes quickly. When the sun begins to set, Nesta leads me back to the tents. I slip into my tent, half hoping to find the shadowsinger inside, weighed down with exhaustion. 

The next few days pass in the same pattern. I catch a few glimpses of Azriel, but Feyre tells me everyone is busy planning our next steps in this war. My heart skips a few beats every time someone mentions his name, but I ignore the sensation. On the fourth day, Feyre leaps to her feet during breakfast and races towards the command tent at the center of camp. 

My sister returns a few hours later reporting that we are moving camp. Hybern’s forces managed to sneak past our scouts and have marched north. As the sun sets, we begin our trek north. Mor clutches tightly to mine and Nesta’s hand as we winnow through the sky beside the flying Illyrians. Hybern’s camp comes into view, the light of their fires shining across the field. Our camp is hastily erected by the exhausted soldiers. The warriors sleep before the battle the next morning. 

_ I stand atop a hill, a dark army stretching towards the distant horizon. I recognize the armor as Hybern’s, but the surrounding hills and forests have vanished. The king strides towards me, his face set in that arrogant smile. A familiar object skims along the ground beside him. The Cauldron.  _

_ My blood freezes at the sight of the abhorrent thing… the wrongness of it reaches me even from here. The army vanishes, leaving me alone in a blank world with the King of Hybern. “Come and find me if you can, seer.”  _

_ I move my gaze to the Cauldron, my fury melting the fear away. “I will find you. You can’t hide forever.”  _

_ The king’s laughter echoes around me as the world fades to an unfamiliar forest. A towering, cloaked figure darts between the trees, always staying just out of my sight. The Suriel.  _

I snap back to my body with a sharp gasp. The sound of fighting and screaming males reaches my ears as I race out of my tent, searching desperately for Feyre. I see Nesta standing atop a hill, pacing and gazing out across the battlefield. “Where’s Feyre?” I pant as I reach her. 

Nesta shakes her head. Her worried eyes shine out from her pale face. “She… she sent Mor to the battle and left a few minutes later. I think she went to find information.” 

I turn towards the battle. Cassian stands out from the rest of the Illyrians, his red Siphons flaring again and again as the soldiers he kills are replaced. Azriel’s blue-edged shadows snake towards the general, but he is surrounded by the writhing mass of Hybern’s army. 

The legion of males wrapped in shadowed steel begins to buckle under the pressure of Hybern’s own legions. A horse begins charging through the Illyrian ranks, scattering their lines. Cassian launches himself into the air and lands directly in front of the commander. I recognize Rhysand’s voice bellowing across the field, ordering Cassian to stand down. The general raises his shield in challenge. 

Any remaining color in Nesta’s face drains as that horse begins to charge directly for Cassian. A large sword sweeps through the air. Nesta’s scream seems lost in the wind as the Siphon’s red flare sputters out and Illyrian steel hits the muddied ground. My sister launches herself forward as the general hits the ground. I wrap my arms around her middle and hold her down. 

“Nesta!” I pant out. “Nesta, you can’t help him!” 

“Let me go!” she screams. She thrashes against my grip. “Damn it, Elain! Let me go!” 

Azriel’s power explodes out of him. He vanishes and reappears in front of the Hybern commander circling Cassian. A flick of Azriel’s blade dismounts him. The shadowsinger wraps blue light from his Siphons around the gaping wound in Cassian’s abdomen. Mor appears next to him a moment later. Both lift their friend up and winnow away. 

Nesta sinks to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Nesta…” I whisper. She shakes her head at me and runs towards the camp. A loud rumbling fills the air. I turn back towards the battle to watch a large number of Hybern’s soldiers… evaporate into a blood rain. Bile rises in my stomach at the sight. 

The remainder of the army begins to scream in panic, but the Illyrian legion and Summer’s army surround them. I turn to follow my sister, but Rhysand steps into my path. His black armor is covered with mud and Hybern’s blood. “Where is Feyre?” 

_ The dull thud of arrows through flesh, the lilting of a taunting female laugh, and a cold and ancient voice. “Who did you bring me, little wolf? Who did you bring to me?”  _

_ The imposing figure of the Suriel sprawled out on the ground, covered with a rich ruby cloak. A blinding light incinerating the unmoving body.  _

The world rights itself. I open my mouth to answer when Feyre appears, clutching the arm of one of the High Lords. Rhysand reaches for her the instant her feet touch the ground and scoops her into his arms. My sister buries her face into his shoulder as sobs shake her entire body. 

I turn towards the healer’s tents, anxious to find Azriel. Mor paces in front of one of the tents, casting worried looks towards it. She pauses when she sees me approaching. “How is he?” I ask. 

The female only shakes her head. I open a flap of the tent and almost empty my stomach. The angry flesh has ripped open to expose Cassian’s insides. Azriel stands in the corner, his face unusually grave. Shadows writhe around his feet, moving along his armor like snakes. I approach him and interlace my fingers with his. 

His face and hair are caked with mud and blood, but only minor cuts decorate his exposed skin. Relief washes over me. After a long, silent wait, my sister and her mate enter the tent. Mor comes in on their heels, her eyes burning with fury. I let my hand fall to my side. Cassian’s eyelids flutter and he lets out a soft groan. 

Azriel’s expression softens a bit, but his fists are still clenched tightly as he crosses his arm. I offer him a soft smile and exit the tent, searching for food for Nesta and I. She needs to be told he's awake. 

The cooks glare at me as I request something to eat, but two covered plates end up in my hands. I see Nesta carrying an empty bucket towards the healer’s compound when Mor storms out of Cassian’s tent followed by the Feyre and Azriel. 

Nesta takes a hesitant step towards the group. I hurry over, balancing the plates carefully on my hands. Feyre says something to my older sister that has her sagging with relief. Mor turns her furious glare from Feyre to Nesta. “Shouldn't you be filling that bucket?” 

Her icy tone ignites my own anger. The two females glare at each other for a few moments before I step between them. “Enough!” I hiss at Mor. “You have no reason to treat Nesta that way.” 

All four sets of eyes widen at my aggressive stance, the anger I feel burning in my gaze. Azriel’s expression doesn't change as he turns towards the large command tent. Mor huffs a sigh before turning to Feyre who follows her towards our tents. Nesta gives me a tired smile before turning away. “I'll leave the food in your tent,” I call after her. 

I return to my own tent and wolf down the lukewarm food. Exhaustion weighs me down. I change out of my damp, filthy gown into a soft nightgown packed for me from Velaris. I sink into my warm bed with images of Graysen and Lucien and Azriel swimming in my mind. Sometime during the night, I begin to dream. 

A haunting melody crawls into my dreams. A soft aria commonly played at wealthy weddings. I stand beneath an explosion of colorful blossoms woven into an archway. The corset of my white gown pinches beneath the ribs. “Are you ready, my dear?” 

My father’s voice washes over me. The joy and health in it brings tears to my eyes. My fingers gingerly touch the tips of my ears.  _ Round! I’m human again!  _ I look out the glass doors in front of us to see a large crowd, all looking expectantly at the doors we are hidden behind. My sisters wait for me at the front of the aisle along with…  _ Graysen!  _

“Father, I don’t think I should be here,” I say. 

My father’s eyebrows meet. “What are you talking about? Today is your wedding day.” 

“I thought Feyre wasn’t going to be able to make it in time after caring for our aunt.” 

“Your aunt passed away several months ago. Feyre returned just in time to stand beside you as you got married. Come, my dear, we don’t want to keep your lord husband waiting.” 

He loops our arms together and hands me a large bouquet of roses grown in the hothouse on our estate. The music transforms into a ballad of love and happiness as the doors open and we step out into the sunlight. Every guest rises to their feet as looks of wonder and appreciation cross their faces. 

A tugging sensation builds in my mind as we approach the small platform where Graysen waits for me. Something feels lost and forgotten. I notice both Feyre and Nesta have round ears.  _ That isn’t right…  _ We stop in front of Graysen and his father. I fight to keep my face neutral.  _ What is this? Something isn’t right.  _

_ Everything is exactly as it should be. Your wish for everything to return to the way it was before has been granted. Be grateful.  _

The hairs on my arm stand straight up as that malicious voice whispers in my ear.  _ No! I never asked for any of this! I don’t belong here! I belong in Prythian!  _

_ I have granted your heart’s deepest wish, and you have the audacity to spit in my face. How typically mortal of you. I have seen into your heart, Elain Archeron. You and I were one, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. In that time, I came to know your heart’s desires. Your family, safe and together. A wedding to the young human man you love.  _

_ Those were the wishes of a weak and broken heart! I belong in Prythian with my sisters and my friends. Your illusions won’t work on me, you vile thing.  _

A roaring fills my ears as tendrils of some power wrap around my body. I thrash against the bonds, but my strength drains away as I am pulled beneath a surface of some frigid liquid. Panic fills my mind as the air in my body is replaced with water. Those tendrils throw me up, up, up until my head breaks the surface. 

Coughing and sputtering, I clamber to my feet. The chill air freezes me to the bone in my dripping nightgown. Shadows dance on the wall in front of me. A tall figure rises as a voice from my nightmares fills the tent. “Well, well, this is a surprise. I never thought our paths would cross again, Elain Archeron.” 

The king of Hybern offers me a mocking bow. “Welcome to my camp, my dear.” Words can't form on my lips. Two blank-faced guards enter the tent. 

The soldiers’ faces widen into sadistic grins as they glance at my sodden nightgown and the curves visible beneath the fabric. Cold iron bands wrap around my wrists. My screams vanish into the foul cloth they shove into my mouth. Violet light glows. “A little extra precaution. Just in case you get any ideas, my pet.” 

Hybern’s men scoop me under the arms and deposit me onto a large cushion in a corner of the tent. Curtains are drawn around me that block my vision of the tent. I shudder violently as the king’s voice wraps around me. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I must go to prepare some… entertainment for us.”

The frigid metal digs into my wrists as I pull against them.  _ Azriel. Feyre. Someone. Anyone. Help me!  _ Laughing, the king exits the tent, leaving me alone in the freezing dark with the Cauldron.

I tug and tug at those bands until blood runs down my hands. The screams of a human girl pierce the night along with the triumphant cries of Hybern’s soldiers. My breaths become ragged in my throat. The magic locking my shackles flares and they tighten painfully. 

Tears run down my face, but I press against the thundering of my heart.  _ I won't die here today. Not here. Not like this.  _ Two male voices grumble about missing the festivities. “Babysitting the little pet of the king.” 

“I wish to pray before the Cauldron before we retire.” 

That voice. Another from a dark memory. Shattering glass, the howls of Fae soldiers, my sister screaming my name as we are spirited away into the night to face… 

Ianthe walks into the tent, but she doesn't see me behind the curtain. I go perfectly still, the cowering part of me hoping she goes away soon. 

The shadows around her darken for a moment before Azriel appears in the tent. My heart stops as tears of relief leak from my eyes. His piercing hazel gaze locks onto me instantly. Ianthe continues to intone prayers to the Cauldron as the curtain is ripped away. 

Azriel pulls the gag from my mouth. “Are you hurt?” His soft voice melts away the fear. He shakes his head at Ianthe as he looks at the chain binding my wrists. The priestess’s face morphs into my sister's. She offers me a quick smile before her face shifts back. 

“You came,” I whisper as he scoops my in his arms, draping my bound wrists over his neck. “I can't believe you came for me.”

The shadows around his face part, revealing his soft smile. “I couldn't leave you behind.” 


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

**Azriel**

Sometime in the darkest part of the night, the breeze morphs from a soft whisper into a horrific wailing. Ancient and cold and powerful. My shadows begin to whip around madly, their voices drowned out by the cacophony of the wind. I pull on my pants and step into a pocket of darkness. None of the soldiers stir from their tents, no calls of alarm. 

Rhysand and Feyre stand outside of their tent. Nesta appears, her eyes wild. Amren comes around the corner of a tent in a male’s shirt, Varian close on her heels. The males look to the females, eyes wide. The wailing intensifies for a moment, grating against my ears. I go to them, stepping out of a shadow just as Feyre says, “What does it want?” 

“What is it?” I ask as I step out of the shadows. 

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You hear it?” 

“No, but the shadows… the wind… they recoil from it.” 

The air returns to a quiet breath blowing across the camp. The tendrils of shadow are still wild and out of control. The others begin to speak, but I send my awareness out towards the edges of the camp. Nothing but the sleeping army surrounds us. 

“So you three were  _ Made _ so you can hear it?” Varian asks. His words send frozen horror down my spine. Three are here, but four were Made.  _ Elain _ . “Sense it?” 

Amren tugs on the arm of the Summer Court male. “It would appear so.” 

I take a step towards the other tents, towards Elain. “What about Elain?” I ask. 

Both Archeron sisters gape at me in mute horror before they race away on bare feet, ignoring the chilled mud as we hurtle through camp. “Elain!” Nesta calls desperately. “Elain!” The tent flap is ripped open to reveal an empty cot. 

“No. No, no, no!” Blankets are thrown from the cot, every surface checked under. Her flower and springtime scent already is fading. Rhysand looks at his mate once before winnowing away. I squeeze into the tent to feel the blankets. A faint warmth lingers there. I must say this out loud because my High Lady’s face crumples as she recounts what happened in her dreams. 

Cassian’s voice can be heard around the camp, issuing orders for a search party. I follow Nesta and Feyre to the edge of camp, dodging between the tents towards a small patch of vegetation. Rhys appears in front of us, the expression on his face carefully blank. Our eyes meet, and I feel my heart dropping into the dark abyss of my power as a blue cloak appears in Feyre’s hands. Elain’s scent pours from the fabric. 

Something inside of me snaps, releasing icy fury into my veins, my bones. Rhysand suggests we return to our war tent to plan our next step. I move through the shadows towards the center of camp, needing a few moments to compose myself. The anger in my body clears my mind of all distractions and hones it into sharp focus. 

Only Cassian, Nesta, and Feyre come into the tent. “We will get her back,” Cassian says firmly. 

Nesta curls her lips as she settles into a chair, wrapping herself into a tight ball. I allow the shadows to crawl along my armor, obscuring my face from the others as I listen to them. Nesta’s sharp retort is met with my brother widening his stance and baring his own teeth. Feyre paces the tent, absently chewing on her thumbnail. 

Before Nesta or Cassian can snap at each other again, I step forward. “I am getting her back.” All three eyes turn to me, two wide with fear and the other a smoldering glare. 

“Then you will die.” There is no malice in the words. Just simple resignation and lost hope. I meet my High Lady’s terrified gaze. Contemplation has softened the fear, but I see her exhaustion in the circles under eyes, the slump in her shoulders. 

“I am getting her back.” There is no room for argument in my tone. 

“I’m going with you,” Feyre announces. 

Cassian protests, but she cuts him off. Her features begin to melt and change shape. Ianthe’s face appears in its stead. Pride warms me as our eyes meet again. “I need one of your Siphons.” 

I pull one from my armor and hand it to her. “Where’s the blacksmith?” 

⧪

An hour later, we gather in the war tent again. Feyre pulls on the borrowed priestess robes and dons the silver circlet. Rhysand pulls her close to him and whispers to her. The night stirs as his power ripples through the camp. “You do not fear. You do not falter. You do not yield. Remember that you are a wolf, and you cannot be caged.” 

My High Lady nods and kisses Rhys once more. Cassian helps Feyre adjust her weapons so they are not visible beneath her robes as my High Lord turns his heavy gaze to me. I feel the vows we made to each other crackle between us. “You get them in and out again, shadowsinger.” It has been several centuries since Rhysand has used my title so formally. “I don’t care how many you have to kill to do it. They both come out.” 

I bow my head to him. “I swear it, High Lord.”  _ On my life.  _

He nods as Feyre takes my hand. The darkness begins to swallow us as Mor appears in the entrance of the tent, her own terror written on her face. My heart drops again, but we are already moving towards our enemy. We appear on the edge of the camp. I meld into nothing but a shadow as Feyre straightens her robes and begins to walk towards the perimeter of the camp. Straight towards six Hybern guards. 

I send tendrils of shadow in every direction, searching for any sign of my friend. In the back of my mind, I can almost feel my High Lady. I remain close to her, hiding in the shadows she casts against the almost countless tents as we make our way down the main avenue of the camp. The screaming of a human woman pierces the night, blending with the shrieks of merriment and triumph. 

Bile rises in my throat, but I push it down.  _ Elain. We are only here to rescue Elain.  _

Feyre almost stumbles as we approach the roaring fire. Three humans are spread out on racks. Two of them are clearly dead, the horrible wounds on their mutilated bodies almost make me empty my stomach. One of the humans, a young girl, remains alive. The soldiers jeer at her as she writhes and screams on the wrack. I place a steadying hand on Feyre’s shoulder to remind her not to panic, not to run. 

“He’s been looking for you,” a male calls from nearby. I recognize the voice.  _ Jurian.  _

“I’ve been busy with my sisters,” Feyre croons. As Jurian stops in front of her, she breathes, “Where is she?” 

The thundering in my chest echoes in my ears as Jurian loops arms with her and steers her towards the center of camp. “Safe, untouched.” His words crash through me, bringing a wave of relief. “Not for long. It shocked him when she appeared in front of the Cauldron. He has her imprisoned in his personal tent, with steel and a little spell from his personal spellbook.” 

“Take me to her,” Feyre says quietly, “but first, what about the girl on the rack?” 

Jurian’s eyes widen. “There have been many before her, and many will come after.” 

“I’m not leaving without her.” Guilt and deep grief echo in those words. 

“Your sister or her. You can’t leave with two.” 

“Get her to me, and I  _ will  _ make it happen.” As would I. The thought of leaving an innocent human in this hellhole… 

Jurian studies Feyre for a moment before sighing. “Say you would like to pray before the Cauldron before we retire.” We stop in front of a large tent the color of sun-bleached bones. Feyre croons at Jurian, the guards before they allow them to enter the tent. 

Jurian tells us a place to meet. “I hope you can carry three, shadowsinger.” He exits the tent. I step out of the shadows the moment she begins to recite common prayers. The curtains in the back of the tent catch my eye. I move towards them, drawing Truth-Teller. I rip the fabric down, revealing Elain, bleeding and bound. 

Removing the gag from her mouth, I scoop her into my arms and cradle her body next to my own. Her scent washes over me, soothing the wild fear I have been fighting since she was taken. “Are you hurt?” 

She shakes her head before resting her forehead against my shoulder. “You came for me. I can’t believe you came for me.” 

“I couldn’t leave you behind.” 

Screaming rises up from the camp along with the snarling of Hybern’s hounds. Feyre reaches for the bonds around Elain’s wrists and ankles, but I shake my head at her. “We have to go,  _ now _ . He’s coming.” 

I hold Elain tighter to my chest. “Hold on, and don’t make a sound.” 

“Out the back?” 

I nod and summon the shadows. Feyre steps close to me. “Run and don’t stop. We sprint for the western edge, the cliff.” 

“What if Jurian isn’t there with the girl in time?” 

_ I will not let an innocent die at the hands of these monsters.  _ “You will take Elain and run. I will get the girl.” The snarling sounds right outside the tent. “Now.” 

We step through the shadows and out the back of the tent. I will to keep them around Feyre and myself, hiding both of us from sight, as we begin our mad sprint towards the edge of the camp. Shouts of the men go up around us, but they cannot see us. Only the hounds can scent us. 

The eastern sky grows brighter. I urge my feet and my High Lady to move faster. The braying grows louder when we are halfway through the camp. Feyre snatches a bow and quiver of ash arrows. 

Feyre takes down one of the hounds as I veer to the side, but the air groans as dozens or hundreds of ash arrows are fired into the air. My Siphons flare, shielding us from the impact, but the shadows hiding us scatter and flee just as the cliff's edge appears between the tents. 

The king’s voice echoes around us, rattling my ears. I ignore his idle threats and focus on holding my footing. The human girl stares and stares at us. “Get her out, Azriel! I will get the other.”

The desperation in my High Lady's voice… I turn to meet her blue eyes. “We  _ all…”  _

“That is an  _ order _ !” 

The tents give way to an empty field. Only a few more yards to the edge when the shaft of an arrow punctures her shoulder. Feyre stumbles and hits the ground. I stop as the hounds leap on her. 

With Elain in my arms, I can't use my blades. As I summon power from my Siphons, Feyre drives off the other two hounds.  _ Go!  _ I can see the word in her eyes. The king of Hybern’s voice echoes around the camp, but I see him casually strolling down the avenue towards us. 

More hounds leap onto Feyre, but she blocks it with her bow. A roar shakes the nearby trees, and a golden-furred creature leaps onto the other hounds. “Tamlin.” 

The beast glances at us both, urging us to flee. Feyre scrambles to her feet. I reach out to her and form a bandage with my Siphon’s power. “You need to fly.” I glance at the growing number of those grotesque hounds and the king strutting forward again. 

“We need to get airborne. Can you make it?” My High Lady nods and starts running towards the cliff. I follow behind her, aiming for the human girl eyeing us with terror in her face. 

“Grab onto him!” Elain screams at the girl. She stares and stares at us as I barrel towards her, towards the cliff. “If you want to live, do it now!”

The girl opens her arms as I reach her. I shoot into the sky, ignoring the drag on my wings as I hold onto both of the females. Elain shrieks a heartbeat before lines of fire burn down my back and into my wings. Her feet kick at the hound that attacked until it falls to the ground with a yelp. 

Hot blood flows from my wounds, but my Siphons come to life, spreading over the gashes. I turn slightly to look at Feyre. My heart falls to the bottom of that deep ravine. “Faster!” I yell as she sprints towards the edge. Only a few more steps. “Push up!” 

The wind picks up, bringing the scent of fresh flowers and spring sunshine as Feyre leaps off the edge of the cliff and sails into the skies with the hound on her heels. My wings beat furiously, my muscles screaming in agony and blood sliding down my back. An arrow sails towards us, magic and poison glowing on its tip. The shield I throw up holds, but I feel the drain on my power. 

“Fly!” I get out as the king’s command sounds behind us. A barrage of arrows hits the shield at our back, but the magic holds.  We hit the wards, but Feyre releases a flash of Day’s spell-breaking power. The wards rip open, letting us fly into the night sky. I feel the High Lord of Spring leap behind us, but he vanishes as soon as he clears the wards. 

Darkness begins to creep towards the edge of my vision. I find Feyre’s hand and the shadows take us to the war camp. As soon as our feet touch solid ground, my knees buckle. I gently set the human girl on the ground, but Elain cannot walk. I cradle her closer to my chest and use the last of my Siphon’s power to reinforce the bandages over my wings. 

“Azriel…” Elain whispers close to my ear. 

I manage to give her a weak smile as we make our way into the camp. The pain in my wings, the blood still sliding down my back… I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. A few soldiers emerge from their tents and catch sight of us. Voices shout for a healer, and Rhysand appears in front of us almost a heartbeat later. Nesta races around a tent and freezes when she sees her sister. 

A sob escapes her throat as she runs towards us. Rhysand extends his arms out for Elain, and I hand her to him. Her eyes never leave my face, even as Nesta embraces her and examines her. She even offers me a grateful look. I tell Rhys about the chains and the magic binding them. Nesta and Feyre reach out for Elain, but she steps closer to me and kisses my cheek. The touch radiates warmth through my battered body. 

Rhys puts my arm over his shoulder. “We need to get you to Thesean. Right now.” I don’t argue as I am led to my tent. Voices sound from inside, but unconsciousness swallows me at last.  


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

**Elain**

The shouts of soldiers and the jumble of multiple footsteps rouses me out of my sleep. Nesta’s arm drapes over my shoulder, but I slip out from under it. Anxiety begins to blossom in my chest as I hurry towards the tent entrance. “Where are you going?”

I freeze in my tracks. Nesta rises to her feet, running her gaze over my body. She approaches me and wraps her arms around me. I exhale slowly through my nose. “I have something I need to do.”

“Where are you going?” 

I clench my teeth. “I’m going to check on Azriel.” 

Her eyebrows raise up. “Why? He is fine. Rhysand took him to a healer last night. They’ll let us know when the healer is done.” 

Ignoring Nesta, I brush past her and pull a dress out of the small trunk in a corner of the tent. I pull it on, counting silently in my head. I move towards the tent entrance again, but Nesta grabs my upper arm. I jerk my arm out of her grasp and meet her eyes, giving her a full glance at the fury I feel burning inside of me. “What is your problem?” I snap. 

“Tell me why you want to check on him so badly."

The iciness in her voice only fuels my resolve, my rage. “In case you’ve forgotten, Nesta, it is  _ only  _ because of Azriel that I am standing here right now instead of rotting in Hybern’s camp.” I step closer to her, until we are almost touching noses. “I owe him  _ my life _ . He is my  _ friend _ , and I need to see with my own eyes that he is alive.” 

“Are you sure that’s all he is?” 

I step back from her. “What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” 

“You’ve already had your heart broken once. I just don’t think you should be getting involved with any more males, especially not right now.” Nesta’s hands rest on my shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.” 

I shrug out of her hands. The concern in her eyes softens my temper. “I know, Nesta. This is something I need to do. I can’t spend the rest of my life being sheltered and coddled. It will send me back to a place I don’t want to go.” 

I see some emotion flicker in my sister’s eyes before she nods and steps aside. “Don’t forget to eat something at least.” 

When I exit the tent, I see the source of all of the commotion. The Winter Court army has arrived. Light reflects from the skin of lesser fae that is ice given form while bears and small foxes dart between the tents and soldiers. The camp appears bright and festive, a wonderful sight after weeks in the minimalistic Illyrian camp. 

I catch a glimpse of my sister walking towards a Winter Court female I faintly recognize and Mor. The human girl from last night stands in their group, her eyes wide with wonder. My feet turn towards Azriel’s tent, picking up speed as I get closer. My heart thumps in my ears as I stop outside of the black tent. 

Male voices sound from inside, but I push my way through the flap. Rhysand and another male stand near the head of Azriel’s cot, looking on as a third male holds his glowing hands over the shadowsinger’s wings. Conversation stops and eyes turn towards me. I go to the head of the small bed and kneel beside Azriel. His eyes are closed, but his breaths come out strong and steady. “How is he?” I ask. 

“He will live,” Rhysand replies. “His wings were injured, but he’ll make a full recovery. The healer that took care of Cassian after Hybern arrives tonight.” 

I let out a shuddering breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. Rhysand pats me gently on the shoulder before turning to the darker skinned male. “Come on, Helion. We’ll just be in the way here.” I feel his amber gaze study me speculatively, but he follows my sister’s mate out of the tent. The other male rises to his feet a short time later and exits the tent. 

Azriel’s hand is ice cold when I take it in my own. I rest my head on my folded arms. “I’m so sorry,” I breathe out. “I’m so, so sorry.” His fingers tighten slightly in my own as my voice cracks, and I lift my head to see his hazel eyes staring back at me. A small smile spreads across his face. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” His other hand reaches out and cups my cheek. His scarred thumb brushes away the hot tears there. “I couldn’t leave you in that place, Elain.” 

I open my mouth but quickly close it. The noises outside the tent seem to fade away as we stare at one another. The intensity in his gaze sets my insides fluttering. “Thank you, Azriel,” I finally say. “I can’t help but feel you’re injuries are my fault.” 

As he opens his mouth to speak, a tendril of shadow wraps around Azriel’s ear. He drops his grip on my hand  as the tent flap is opened and Mor and Feyre walk inside. I scramble to my feet, heat flooding through my body. I brush the tears from my face. Feyre’s expression is bemused, but she smiles warmly at me and embraces me. Mor stares and stares at me, her mouth slightly open, before turning to Azriel. 

“I… I need to go find something to eat,” I announce. Heading to the entrance of the tent, I avert my eyes from the shadowsinger. A dull ache forms in the pit of my stomach.

“I had food sent to your tent,” Feyre says gently. She pats my hand before turning to Azriel. I exit the tent as the conversation starts inside. The ache inside of me grows stronger, but I head back to my tent. A hot platter of food waits inside. After I choke down the food, I lay in my bed and close my eyes. 

_ The salt scent of the ocean washes over me as the ships fly over the waves. Three of them lead the rest of the armada. Human men climb through the ropes above and rush around on the deck. One male stands out from the crowd. Russet hair glimmers in the bright sunlight.  _

_ Lucien paces on the bow of the ship, always looking towards the east. A bird of living flame perches on the railing of the ship, cocking its head to the side. Lucien strokes its head gently. “We’re almost there,” he mutters. _

_ My father emerges from the cabin of the ship and approaches my mate. “How much longer do you think it will be?”  _

_ “Another day or two, as long as this weather holds.”  _

_ “Have you…?”  _

_ Lucien shakes his head. “I can’t feel anything through the bond. I don’t want to invade on her privacy. She is… unsure about it. I know she is alive though.”  _

_ My father nods and glances around. “I hope we make it in time.”  _

_ “We will.”  _

_ The firebird lets out a soft cry and looks directly at me. Lucien follows her gaze to where I am standing. His eyes widen slightly, but he shakes his head and resumes pacing.  _

_ I glance over the railing, to the east. Towards the dark mass of land just forming on the horizon.  _

⧪

Nesta and I stand in the corner of war tent, observing the gathered High Lords discussing the tactics for the next battle. I glance at Azriel from time to time, the ache in my heart growing stronger every time our eyes meet across the room. His face is so, so pale, even against the web of bandages covering his wings and back. 

I listen with half an ear as the debate rages on. My heart thunders in my chest, my thoughts churning and rolling around and around.  _ Azriel. Lucien. Graysen.  _ Their faces flit through my mind. 

Nesta’s voice breaks through the haze of my thoughts. “Because we insulted him. My sisters and I.” 

Horror curls my stomach. I glance at the table. The King of Hybern. The human lands. Our army too far away. My hand goes to my throat. “He… he's going to march on the human lands and… butcher them just to spite us?”

Despair and guilt roll through my body.  _ I can’t save these people. Humans… innocent humans are going to die because of us. I can’t save any of them…  _

I feel Azriel’s gaze burning through me. Worry and determination line his face, but I ignore him. The others continue debating, but their words are indistinguishable over the roaring in my ears. I fight against the black grief threatening to consume me. 

A chill breeze sweeps through the tent, hushing the voices of the others. “I hope you’re all ready to face Hybern in battle.” 

Looks of confusion pass between the High Lords. “Why?” Rhys asks. 

“I found a way to stop the Cauldron.” Her silver eyes rest on Nesta, then Feyre, and finally on me. “I found a way for us to wipe his armies off the face of the earth.” 

Midday means a halt for a our troops. Feyre and Nesta emerge from one of the supply wagons wearing Illyrian fighting leathers. The sight of my elder sister’s curves and legs on full display stops me short. “What… what are you wearing?”

Amusement glitters in Feyre’s eyes. “What’s wrong with them?” 

Heat floods my cheeks. “I c-can see everything! I’m not wearing those.” 

Mor and a Winter Court female walk around the corner, lost in conversation. They both stop and laugh at the embarrassment on my face. “I have a solution,” the Winter Court female says and vanishes. She reappears a few moments later with attire similar to hers. It’s leather armor, but a long coat conceals the worst of the exposed curves. 

I duck into a wagon to change. When I emerge, Cassian immediately comes up to me. I catch a glimpse of Azriel speaking with Feyre and Mor. The bandages are gone, but I can see long scars down the delicate membrane of his wings. I push the ball of aching emotion deep inside of me. The general extends a small blade towards me. 

My heart leaps at the sight of the polished steel. I step back from it, shaking my head. Azriel nudges aside his brother and stops in front of me. I force myself to meet his gaze and see only kindness and understanding in them. I overheard the argument between him and Rhysand this morning. Heard Mor  _ begging  _ him not to fight today. Heard him giving into their demands. I fight to keep my face neutral.

He unbuckles a dagger from his own belt. The hilt and sheath are both black, but strange silver runes decorate the sheath. He extends it to me. “This is Truth-Teller. I won’t be using it today.” Bitterness and anger lace his words. “It has never failed me once. Some say it is magic and will always strike true.” 

Azriel lifts my hands to the blade and presses it into my grasp. The contact of our skin jolts through me. “It will serve you well.” 

Time seems to slow as our gazes meet. I don’t hide the fear I feel.  _ Please, be careful, Azriel. I need you to walk off that battlefield today. I don’t want to fall into the darkness you helped pull me out of… I have no right to ask, but please come back to me.  _

He nods his head very slightly. “I… I don’t know how to use it,” I hear myself saying. 

“I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” Feyre says. I look from my sister to the shadowsinger and close my hand around Truth-Teller’s hilt. Rhysand emerges from wherever he was changing, but I continue to hold the blade. Azriel doesn’t turn away, his intense expressing boring down into my soul. 

The others gather in a half circle with Rhysand and my sister at the head of it. A hush falls over us… a family. The Court of Dreams. “Do you want the inspiring talk or the bleak one?” 

“We want the real one,” Amren says. 

Rhysand gazes at all of us. Tears sting in my eyes as he begins speaking. Cassian and Azriel and Amren and Mor… all of them helped shape my sister’s mate to the male he became. When his eyes turn to Feyre, the love shining there threatens to crack my heart in two. He looks at Nesta and I. 

“We have not known each other long, but I have to believe that you were brought here, brought into our family, for a reason too. Maybe today we’ll find out why.” I offer my sister’s mate a warm smile as he extends his hand to Cassian, who takes it. Azriel. Mor. Amren. Nesta. Me. We all join hands and link together. 

_ No matter what happens… I have a family. I have a home. We can do this. We will fight for our homes, our Courts, and our families. I will be strong… I won’t fail.  _

We reach a small hill I recognize in the middle of the afternoon. The hill from my visions. As our Court and the other High Lords reach the top, I hear the distant sounds of dying screams and bones cracking.  Hybern’s army stands as a dark mass across the field, reaching into the foothills of the mountain behind them. The anguished cries of my sisters echo in my ears as magic begins to crackle in the air. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Azriel**

Chaos breaks out across the battlefield as my High Lord and Lady’s “mating presents” rip though Hybern’s ranks. The screams of the dying soldiers reaches us on the distant hill. Elain’s face pales at the sound, but the fear in her eyes dulls slightly when our eyes meet.

I growl quietly as my shadows go blind and deaf near Hybern’s camp. Rhysand lifts his hand, pointing to the center of the army. A red mist fills the air, raining blood and pieces of metal onto the remaining troops. My Siphons flare to life as I send a large blast of power towards that open wound. The two halves of the army move farther apart.

The legion of Illyrians rises into the sky, Cassian at the head of the charge. Hybern releases his own aerial legion, faebane arrowheads gleaming in the sunlight. Siphon shields fall, and the remaining Illyrians pull out their heavy metal shields. I shoot a glare at Rhys over my shoulder.

_ Damn it! I should be up there fighting with them! Cassian can’t lead the entire legion himself. _

Violet eyes meet my own. Behind the battle fury, I feel Rhysand’s worry.  _ You can’t fly! You wouldn’t be able to support yourself against those arrows. I need you alive. Cassian knows his duty. I need you here, on the ground, fighting beside me. Just as we have always done. _

Rhys glances at Mor and Elain for a brief moment before turning back to the battle. Amren paces on the hillside, impatience etching lines in her face. “It’s already getting messy.”

“Not yet. He’s barely engaged beyond the front lines. We need the king’s focus elsewhere.” The Carver, the Weaver, and Bryaxis are deep within the Hybern ranks, but the other troops fill in the holes left by them too quickly. My own frustration mounts as my shadows return to me, blinded and deafened by the king’s wards.

I want to argue with Rhys again, but war horns echo across the field. The battle pauses as both armies turn to the north to see three banners whipping in the wind. Rhys turns to Amren and urges her to go. I know the orange of Autumn Court and the green of Spring Court, but the cobalt coat of arms I don’t recognize. Elain lets out a faint sound of shock. Graysen then.

Eris appears on the hillside. Rhys lets out a bestial growl. “We thought you could use some help.” Eris nods towards the head of the army. Jurian and Tamlin and Beron are at the head of it.

“What of your brothers?” Rhys asks.

“We’re taking care of a problem.” He looks to the black mass of Hybern’s army where columns of flame and smoke are erupting. Faebane. Wicked satisfaction washes through me. “Jurian and Tamlin want orders.”

Rhys nods before turning to Feyre and the others. He nods at Amren.

Elain jumps when Nesta lays a hand on her arm. She turns away from the battlefield, away from where Graysen fights. She wipes her eyes before being led away by the other three. I will my shadows to wrap around the four females, hiding them from sight and detection.

I pace along the hilltop, monitoring the battle as Rhys explains the plan to Eris. I can see Amren and the others stalking down the hill. The wind changes in an instant. I hear it roaring as my shadows begin to recoil. Nesta falls to her knees, clutching her head.

_ The Cauldron!  _ I shout to Rhys. He turns to Eris and says a few words. “Shields…” Amren gasps out as Nesta topples her over. Rhys wraps a shield around our entire army. I reienforce it with my own power. “Cassian!” Nesta’s scream echoes across the field. “CASSIAN!” 

A figure drops out of the Illyrian ranks and flies towards Nesta. A few heartbeats later, the earth shudders. A blinding flash of pure power bursts out of the rocky foothills in the center of Hybern’s army. Our shields shred instantly under the sheer weight of the Cauldron’s attack. 

My ears feel empty as I blink against the blinding light. Ashes rain down over our foot soldiers. The Illyrian and Peregryn ranks are scattered now, rendered in half by the blast from the Cauldron. Cassian hovers in midair, glancing from where Nesta sits in the grass to our reforming legion. 

The world shakes once more as the Cauldron rallies its power again. Shields from all of the High Lords lock into place, but the destruction never comes. In the blast, part of Hybern’s army turns to ash. The Bone Carver, lost in his own dance of death, turns towards Feyre and smiles before he vanishes.

The army below us begins to stir in panic. The Illyrians bellow to reform the lines, the white feathers of the Peregryns now mixing with the dark wings of the Illyrians. Bellows from the High Lords to remain firm can be heard. Cassian lands next to Nesta, his face paler than I have ever seen it.

“What is that? What--?” he stutters out.

“It’s gone quiet again,” Nesta whispers out. Elain, supported by Amren, heaves onto the grass. Her face is almost gray.

“Get back to the lines! Our soldiers need you!” Rhys barks at Cass.

Cassian bears his teeth. “What can we do against  _ that _ ?”

The fear in Cassian’s voice snaps the tether on my own anger. Icy rage floods through me, erasing the exhaustion in my body. “I’m going in,” I say quietly. 

All eyes turn to me. “No,” Rhys growls out. I spread my wings, preparing to take off.

“Chain me to a tree, Rhys.” I ensure my weapons are in place and secure. “Go ahead.” I glance at Elain, curled in a ball on the grass. “I’ll rip the damn thing out and fly with it on my back.”

I refuse to lower my gaze as Rhysand stares at me then turns to the Illyrian legion still raining arrows down on Hybern’s army. Feyre clambers to her feet, weighing the odds of making it across that battlefield. Her and Amren look at each other. My heart drops at the eruption of another war horn. A dark line of ships forms on the western horizon, coming from the sea.

Countless ships, covered with more of Hybern’s soldiers.  _ This is going to be our last stand.  _ Rhysand, Cassian, and I look at each other and nod. The promise we made to one another heavy in the air between us.  _ We will stand together, until the end, no matter what.  _ Feyre and Rhys speak to one another through the bond. I glance at Elain, who jumped to her feet at the new horn.

_ I will gladly die fighting for a better world. I will gladly die fighting for the friends and family I love. Mother, please, watch over the ones I will leave behind.  _ Elain looks up and meets my eyes. I want to comfort her when I see the terror in them, but my feet refuse to move.

“Azriel,” Rhys says. His voice cracks. “Azriel, you lead the remaining Illyrians on the northern flank.” I nod and launch myself into the air. My muscles feel tender, sore and delicate. I ignore the sensation, the growing hole in my heart, and meet with the Illyrians. My Siphons flare to life, dragging the last bits of my power to the surface.

Before I can open my mouth to give the final order to charge, another set of war horns sound. From the east, from a distant memory. Another armada appears on the horizon, and countless winged soldiers appear in the skies above the ships. There are more ships than Hybern has in his armada. I see Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian launch themselves into the air, staring off towards the east.

White feathered wings. The armor.  _ It’s the Seraphim!  _ Relief fills the void in my chest, warming my resolve. One of the warriors breaks off from the rest, flying towards Rhys and Cass. After words are exchanged, the four of them look towards the ships leading the charge. The Feyre, the Elain, and at the helm of the Nesta, the patriarch of the Archeon family drives the ships towards Hybern’s armada.

Glowing among the ships flies a bird of fire. Vassa. The lost queen. I order the Illyrians to prepare for another charge as the cursed queen and the ships slam into Hybern’s armada. Hope blooms inside of my heart.   _ Mother, watch over us all. _


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

**Elain**

A familiar cry pierces the air, ringing with fury and triumph. Vassa, the firebird queen, rains fire and chaos down on Hybern’s ships. Tears stream down my face at the sight of my father leading the charge against the armada.  _ He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. _

“Amren and I need to go,  _ now. _ ” Feyre’s voice snaps me back to the hillside we stand on. Nesta closes her eyes and sighs quietly. 

“Wait.” Everyone pauses at the sound of my sister’s voice. “Use me as bait.” 

“No!” Cassian and I shout together. 

Nesta ignores us, her intense gaze fixed on Rhysand. “The king is most likely waiting by the Cauldron. Even if you reach it, you will still have to fight him. Draw him away from it, draw him towards me.” 

“How?” Rhysand asks. 

“The… link goes both ways. If it seems like I’m using the power I got from the Cauldron, he will come running. Just to kill me and steal back the power.” 

“He  _ will _ kill you!” Cassian growls out. He approaches my sister, fear making his eyes wild. “I--” 

Nesta stops him by laying her hand on his arm. “That’s where you come in.” 

“No,” Rhysand says quietly. I shake my head, words refusing to come to my mouth. Terror chokes me again.

Nesta lets out a snort. “You’re not my High Lord. I may do as I wish, and he will sense that you are with me. That means you need to go far away too.” 

Feyre opens and closes her mouth a few times, looking helplessly at her mate. I approach my sister. “Nesta, no, you can’t do this.” Cassian looks up at Azriel and the reformed Illyrian lines. Her shoulders stiffen, but Nesta ignores me. “Nesta, please!” 

“Az has control of the lines,” Cassian says firmly. “I’m going with her.” 

“I said  _ no _ .” The ground seems to shake as Rhysand steps towards his general. 

Cassian meets his gaze, refusing to back down. “This is the only shot we have of luring him away from the Cauldron. You gave  _ everything  _ Rhys. You lived through hell for  _ fifty years _ for us. It’s time the debt was repaid. Let us return the favor.” 

Guilt and fear and sadness shine in those violet eyes. “There is no debt to repay.” My eyes sting at the emotion in his voice. 

“I never was able to repay your mother for the kindness she showed me. Let me do it this way. Let me buy you time.” 

Rhysand shakes his head. “I can’t.” Feyre wipes her eyes.

“You can. You can, Rhys.” His face breaks out in a cocky grin. He turns to my sister. “Do you have everything you need?” 

Nesta nods. “Tell Father… tell him thank you.” Cassian scoops her into his arms and launches himself into the sky. Rhysand reaches a hand towards him as Feyre lays her own on his shoulder. 

“He might survive,” she says. 

“No, he won’t.” Rhysand turns away from his mate, looking at me. I straighten my shoulders and approach them. 

“I’m going to the Cauldron with you,” I announce. Amren and Feyre shake their heads. 

“No, you’re going back to the camp. You will only be in the way here.” His words sting. Rhysand extends his hand towards me. “We need to know you’re safe, Elain. Please.” 

I stomp my foot. “How can you expect me to sit around the camp while all of you are fighting? I can’t just sit there worrying and gnashing my teeth!” 

“Elain, it isn’t up for debate,” Feyre says firmly. She glances at her mate before turning towards Amren. They vanish from sight as Rhysand steps in front of me. 

“I’m sorry.” His apology does nothing to soothe the fury I feel mounting inside of me. His hand is gentle as it grips my arm and we winnow through the darkness to our war camp. I jerk my arm away and open my mouth to hurl a curse at him, but Rhysand winnows away instantly. 

I slump to the ground, exhaustion replacing the anger. I close my eyes and open my mind, willing the battle to come to  _ me.  _ Power flares to life near a small copse of trees.  _ Come.  _ It echoes through the battlefield, summoning those who can hear it.  _ Come find me.  _ I follow the voice, finding myself standing beside my elder sister. 

_ Cassian stands slightly in front of her, his blood-stained blade drawn and ready. The blue of my sister’s eyes danced like living flame, unholy and ancient. Nesta’s magic flares again, calling to the Cauldron, to the king. The general scans the surrounding trees, his shoulders tense.  _

_ A timeless, malicious presence appears in the clearing, but I don’t see the Cauldron. That lyrical voice remains silent, but I can feel it waiting and watching for Nesta to fall. It wants the piece she stole from it.  _

_ “Get ready,” Nesta lets out a breathy growl. “He’s coming.” My sister rallies her power for a final, killing blow. Cassian drops into a fighting stance as the King of Hybern winnows into the clearing. My sound of grief echoes Nesta’s as we see my father struggling in the king’s clutches. The weak sun gleams off of the steel pressed against my father’s throat.  _

_ “Nesta,” my father gasps out. His voice falls like stones on my heart.  _

_ The fire, the power, in my sister’s eyes dies out. Her arms drop limply to her side. The king’s expression widens into a satisfied smile. “What a loving father to bring an entire army to save his daughters.” The king stares at my father. I drink in my father’s face, the tanned skin and beard. “So many things have changed, you know. Three daughters, now Fae. One of them married quite well.”  _

_ My father ignores the king. He only has eyes for Nesta. “I loved you from the moment I held you in my arms. I… I am… so sorry, Nesta. I am so sorry for everything.”  _

_ Tears slide down Nesta’s face. “Please,” she begs. “Please.”  _

_ The king’s smile widens. “What will you give me, Nesta Archeron?”  _

I pull myself out of the vision. Desperation sets my feet running towards the field, but my lungs begin to burn at the edge of the camp. I fall to my knees, panting. I pull out Truth-Teller.  _ Please, help me. Help me save my family.  _ Hysterical sobs escape my throat. I slam the blade into the soft earth.  _ Please! I can’t let my family die! Help me! _

Tendrils of shadow erupt from the ground where I stabbed Truth-Teller. They wrap themselves around me, stroking the tears from my face.  _ How may we serve?  _

My knuckles whiten as I grip the dagger. “Take me to my father, to the king.”

_ As you will it, mistress. _ This darkness freezes my very blood. Colder and older than the darkness Rhysand controls. Wind rushes in my ears, whipping the hair away from my face.  _ Strike true and the blade will not fail you. Glory to you, mistress.  _

I land in the small copse of trees. Shadows dance around me, shielding me from view. Cassian lays on the ground, blood leaking from his body. One of his wings has bent at a strange angle. Nesta pulls on his arm, begging him to get up. I feel the king coming closer, stalking towards us slowly. Cassian cups my sister’s face. “I will find you again in the next world, the next life. We will have that time, I promise.” 

A sob chokes out of Nesta. She shakes her head as the king appears in the clearing. His smug grin widens at the sight of the broken Cassian and sobbing Nesta. My sister throws her body over the Illyrians. A bloodied arm reaches around and embraces her. I feel something deep inside of me snap, unleashing a power I can’t explain.

My mind clears. I begin to stalk forward, willing my footsteps to remain silent on the soft grass. The king lifts his arm, power singing and swimming in his hand. A death blow to reclaim what Nesta stole, to deal a blow to Rhysand and my entire family. “Romantic, but ill-advised.” 

_ It’s now or never, mistress.  _ I lift the dagger, Truth-Teller’s obsidian hilt drinking in the sunlight. I step behind the king and strike as his hand lifts higher. The shadows disappear as blood sprays my face and arms. The king begins to choke, his breath gurgling in his throat. Blood leaks around the blade of Truth-Teller protruding from his neck. 

I grip his hair and draw his ear next to my mouth. My breath wraps around his ear like a lover’s embrace. “Don’t you touch my sister.” I release my hold on him. Still choking and gasping for breath, the king lifts his hand to the blade. Nesta jumps to her feet and races towards us. 

She grips the hilt of Truth-Teller and begins to twist the blade. She cuts deeper into his neck. Bile rises in my throat, and I run to where Cassian pulls himself towards her. “Nesta,” he groans. “Nesta!” 

A sickening thud echoes through the clearing as the King of Hybern’s head falls to the ground. Nesta lifts the head and stares into the face of our enemy before tossing it on the ground. Some morbid curiosity draws my gaze to the severed head as it bounces and lands in front of another body I hadn’t noticed before. “Nesta…” I whisper. 

Nesta ignores Cassian and I. She sinks to her knees as I glance at the fallen body. A scream rips through my throat. My father’s body is limp, but his eyes are closed. He could almost be sleeping except for the strange angle of his neck. 

I race to his body, clutching his tunic. “Father! No, Father!” I sob. Tears fall onto his face, as Nesta approaches us too. Cassian leans on his sword, dragging his injured wings through the mud. 

“We have to go. We will bury him when the battle is over,” Cassian says gently. “I’m sorry, but it isn’t safe here for any of us. I can’t defend you.” 

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I reach deep inside of me for the magic I feel stirring there. I beg the earth to bloom for my father, for this beautiful soul snuffed out. Flowers erupt from the ground, covering his body and hiding it from the scavengers already flying overhead. Cassian hands me Truth-Teller. I sheath the blade. 

Nesta and I support Cassian’s weight as we limp towards the hillside. The earth shudders and light erupts from the foothills deep inside Hybern’s lines. Nesta clutches at her stomach, but she doesn’t lose her grip on Cassian. “The Cauldron… something is wrong.” 

“ _ Again _ ?” I gasp out. I am too numb, too drained, to feel anymore terror or grief. Cassian orders us to stop, to rest. A column of fire erupts from one of the rocky hillsides, a figure visible in the flames. Nesta clutches her head, moaning softly.

“The Cauldron… it’s broken…” she whispers as that column widens, encompassing the entire battlefield. Hybern’s army begins to incinerate as the creature of light passes through them. The taint of that army becomes ashes. The strange creature turns towards the sea, destroying Hybern’s ships ash it passes. With another flash of blinding light, it vanishes into the western horizon. 

“We need to get to the Cauldron,” Nesta says. “It’s… it needs to be mended.” I unsheathe Azriel’s blade again. Shadows crawl up my arm from the hilt. Cassian’s eyes widen at the sight. I tell the others to take my hand.

_ How may we serve, mistress?  _

_ Take us to the Cauldron, to our family. Please. We need to right a wrong that will destroy our world.  _

_ Very well. _

The darkness wraps around us and pulls us through the world. We appear in the heart of Hybern’s camp. Varian, Rhysand, and Feyre stand looking at a… thing where the broken pieces of the Cauldron once stood.  _ Wrong, wrong, wrong!  _ My instincts beg me to flee from the void. 

Feyre reaches for the three shards of the Cauldron, Rhysand right behind her. Both of them vanish into that void. Cassian lunges forward, but his injuries stop him. More footsteps crunch on the rocks, but we cannot tear our eyes away from the void. Two of the pieces reform. The earth shudders beneath us as the final piece falls into place. 

My sister and Rhysand reappear several feet away on the rocky ground. Feyre still clutches the Cauldron, but her mate lays still on the ground. She inhales deeply, removing her hand from the rim of the vile thing in front of her. Her eyes automatically turn to where Rhysand hasn’t moved. 

A horrendous, piercing scream echoes from the rocks. It goes on and on and on. Feyre clutches at her head and claws at her chest before racing to Rhysand. “No…” I breathe out. “No! No!” I run to my sister as Morrigan and Azriel appear. 

The two of them stare at their High Lord and Lady in horror. Feyre continues to scream and run her hands along Rhysand’s face. Tears stream down my face as the grief in my sister’s voice tears holes in my heart and soul. Helion appears and tries to pull my sister from her mate’s body. 

An animalistic sound rips from her throat. Another male appears, Thesan, and touches Rhysand’s throat. Feyre lunges for him, but Mor holds her back. “He’s seeing if there’s… anything to be done.” After a brief moment, Thesan lowers his hand and shakes his head slightly. 

“He…” Helion whispers. He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Of course he did.” 

“Please.” My heart breaks even more at Feyre’s plea. The High Lord of Summer approaches Feyre and grips her hands. She tries to pull away, but Tarquin holds her fast. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. My sister’s shoulders slump even more at this. The other High Lords appear on the hill. Beron and Kallias observe silently. 

“Bring him back,” Feyre snarls as her eyes rove over each of them. “Bring him back!” 

Blank faces are her only answer. “BRING HIM BACK!” She lets out another sob. “You did it for me! Now do it for him!” 

Tarquin looks helplessly at Helion. “You were human. It is…” 

“I don’t care! Bring him back!” More looks are exchanged between the High Lords. Feyre rises to her feet. Her eyes burn with tears and anger. 

Tarquin kneels over Rhysand. A small light forms in his palm. “For what he gave. Today and many years before.” 

Helion, Thesan, and Kallias step forward and drop their own small lights onto Rhysand. Mor draws her sword and points it at Beron. “I don’t mind making one more kill today.” The High Lord of Autumn scowls at her but throws the light on Rhysand before stalking away. 

Feyre holds her own palm open, but no spark of light appears there. I want to comfort her, but… my hand falls limply at my side. I look for Azriel and meet his gaze. Blue patches of his Siphon’s power cover both him and Cassian. He offers me a tired smile but turns to watch Thesan explaining to Feyre about the power. 

She gently puts her own power on her mate’s throat and looks up just as Tamlin appears. The other High Lords step aside for him, keeping their distance. Tears swim in Feyre’s eyes as she clutches Rhysand’s armor. “Please.” 

Tamlin looks down at Rhysand’s dead body and my sister. My friends reach for their swords. “Please, I will give you  _ anything _ .” 

His shoulders tense at the words. My sister’s chest heaves with gasping sobs as she lays her head on Rhysand’s chest. “Anything,” she breathes. “Anything.” 

Tamlin sighs deeply before stepping forward. He brings his own small kernel of power forward. “Be… be happy, Feyre,” he whispers as he drops the power onto Rhysand’s throat. Beron and Tamlin both vanish as the other High Lords begin to speak to one another. 

Azriel, Cassian, and Morrigan approach Feyre and sit near Rhysand’s head. Nesta and I linger behind them. Nesta’s eyes are shielded, and she remains silent. My own heart feels too heavy to try and comfort her. There will be time to speak later. 

Feyre eyes fly open. Everyone on the hillside falls silent as Rhysand’s eyes flutter open and his hand brushes my sister’s face. “If we’re all here, things either went very, very wrong or very right.” A rough laugh escapes from Cassian. “You lot will be pleased to know that my power remains my own. No thieving here.” 

Helion also laughs. “You certainly know how to make an entrance. Or should I say an exit?” 

I wipe away more tears, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods are listening. A sudden clamber of activity draws my attention back to the Cauldron. Mor, Azriel, and another male reach into the murky depths and pull out a dripping wet Amren. The female opens her eyes, and Varian lets out a choked sob of relief. 

Nesta remains silent, staring into nothing. I get to my feet and gently touch her shoulder. She doesn’t respond. “Nesta,” I say gently. “Nesta, please come with me.” We have to bury our father. Azriel announces that the battle is over, the field is clear. “Nesta, it’s time to say goodbye to our father.” I take a bucket of water from a passing healer. 

She tenses at this, but I coax her to her feet. Feyre approaches us, her eyes empty of emotion. Nesta and I take the hand she extends towards us as we winnow to the clearing.  The birds have already began picking at the corpse of the king. Nesta spits on the corpse as we pass. 

The flowers covering my father vanish at my touch. I gently sponge off his body, wiping the blood and dirt from his face. I wipe my stinging eyes as I gently comb out his hair and beard.  _ I love you, Father. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you from this. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. Thank you, for everything you have done for us.  _

I straighten his tunic and summon more flowers. They form a crown around his head, and I place some in his hands. “I love you,” I breathe out as I stand up. Nesta only stares and stares at our father’s serene face. Feyre lays a hand on my shoulder in comfort. Her own eyes are wet. 

“Should we… say a prayer?” I ask. I don’t know any prayers. The humans have no gods, say no prayers. Feyre closes her eyes, thinking for a moment. 

“Mother hold you,” Feyre whispers. Small flames begin to dance at her fingertips. “May you pass through the gates; may you smell that immortal land of milk and honey.” I let out a small whimper. My sister’s lip trembles. “Fear no evil. Feel no pain.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “May you enter eternity.” 

I stroke my father’s face once more. I add one more beautiful flower to his hand and nod at Feyre. Nesta’s face remains stony and unreadable. Those flames leap from my sister’s hand to my father’s body. In a few moments, all that remains is a burned area of grass and ashes dancing on the wind. 

We stand staring at the smoldering grass for a long time, but soft footsteps approach us. Nesta whips around, but she says nothing. Lucien approaches us slowly, cautiously. His eyes fall on me immediately. I notice the blood on his face and clothes. 

“Are you hurt?” he pants out. His shrewd gaze lingers on my own bloodied hands. I wrap my arms around myself and move closer to Feyre. 

That bond inside of me stirs.  _ Hello, again, mate. _ “I’m fine,” I say softly. “Are you…?” 

Lucien’s smile warms my very soul. “Well, I never want to fight in another battle again, but yes, I am fine.” The corners of my own mouth lift as he looks at the burned grass behind us. His russet eye is soft with sorrow. “I… I heard what happened. I am so… so sorry for your loss. All of you.” 

Feyre walks over to him and embraces him. After a brief moment of surprise, Lucien hugs her back. His eyes remain staring at me though. He and my sister exchange warm words, but I turn back to Nesta. I cannot find the words to comfort my sister. She refuses to look away from where my father’s body was. 

My mouth opens and closes several times. I let out a soft sigh and gently squeeze Nesta’s shoulders. Feyre glances at us before her and Lucien begin walking back towards the war camp. I look at Nesta once more before following my sister. 

I catch up to them. Lucien smiles at me. “I heard you made the killing blow.” 

“No. Nesta did. I just stabbed him.” Lucien seems at a loss for words. 

“So, where now? Off with Vassa?” Feyre asks quickly. 

Lucien shrugs. “First, here to help. After that… who knows?” His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he looks away. _ He has nowhere to go. No family, no home to return to.  _

“You could come to Velaris,” I say rapidly. 

Lucien blinks in surprise. He glances at Feyre who nods. A bright smile spreads across his face. “It would be my pleasure.” Azriel, Lucien, and Graysen all enter my mind, but I push the churning thoughts away. There will be time to examine my feelings later, to think of these things later. Lucien begins to tell us about his time on the continent. 

When we reach the camp, I find my tent quickly and pull off my filthy clothes. After washing the king’s blood from my hands, I sink into my bed. I savor the warmth and softness of my sheets as exhaustion drags me into a deep slumber where not even my mate’s face can reach me. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Azriel**

The sails of the armada begin to furl out in the early morning breeze. Drakon’s ships separate from the human ones. I watch them as they catch the tide and the wind. Most of the war camps are gone, but many of the Illyrians are still too injured to travel. 

I let out a long breath.  _ I miss Velaris.  _

“Are you… alright?” 

Mor’s voice startles me as she appears in the doorway of the ruined bedroom. I turn away from the window where the first rays of dawn are appearing. Mor rubs her arms and stares at the wall behind me. 

“I’ll be fine,” I respond. She comes closer, her sweet scent washing over me. I grit my teeth as my heart skips a beat. “Are you…?” 

“Fine. I’m fine.” The words are clipped. Mor refuses to look at me as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I was just… worried about you. That’s all.” 

The thundering tempo in my chest increases. Words elude me, so I give her a nervous smile. Mor swallows hard, her hands clenching and unclenching. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

Her body freezes at the question. She leans against the window, staring out at the brightening ruins of the Archeron house. I resist the urge to fidget or pace as my anxiety increases.  _ Time… she needs time and silence to decide if she wants to tell me.  _ After a long pause, Mor huffs out a sigh. “I… I owe you an apology.” 

“For what?” 

Mor swallows again. She continues to stare out the window. Her voice drops to a quiet whisper. “I haven’t been… completely honest with you, any of you, in a long time.” 

I reach out my hand and lay it on her arm. She flinches at the touch, but I don’t move my hand. “Mor, there is nothing you can tell us that would make any of us think less of you.” 

Tears swim in her eyes as she finally meets my gaze. “I know.” 

“We all have our secrets. Tell us when you are ready. We will support you, Mor.” 

She nods, wiping her eyes. “I… I know.” Instinctively, I open my arms to her. Mor glances at me before stepping forward. I pull her close to me and breathe her scent in more deeply. The hurt and fear inside of me melts away, but Elain’s face floats through my mind. 

“You deserve to be happy, Morrigan,” I say quietly. 

Mor wipes her eyes again. Our faces are close enough that I can see the speckles of darker blue in her eyes. My longing for Mor rushes through me, but I push it down again. “I… you deserve to be happy too, Azriel.”

“I am. I am happy here… with you.” The words leap out of my mouth before I can stop them. Her eyes widen at this, and she steps back out of my embrace. My hand reaches towards her before I can pull it back. 

Mor bites her lip and shakes her head. “I… I’m sorry, Azriel. I… It’s not you… I just… can’t.” 

Her rejection stabs a hole in my chest, making it hard to breathe properly “Don’t… don’t apologize.” The words are thick in my throat. I swallow around the lump forming there. “I understand. I’m sorry.” 

Mor steps closer to me this time. “No… don’t think for a moment that it has anything to do with you.” She pauses, searching for words. “You’re wonderful and kind and strong.”

Icy rage threatens to consume me. My heart feels empty and hollow. I retreat towards the wall. “Please, Mor. Don’t.” I clench my fists. “I need to be alone for awhile.” I back towards the window.

“Azriel…” 

“Mor,  _ please. _ ” The last word comes out a hoarse plea. I ignore the stinging in my eyes as Mor swallows hard once more. She nods and hurries out of the room. When her footsteps have faded, I sink to the ground, my wings dragging on the wall. 

Shadows begin to writhe around me as I fall into a pit of despair. The whispers fade into roaring. I pound my fist against the stone again and again until my knuckles come away bloody and raw. 

_ You fool! You stupid, stupid fool! Why did you have to tell her that? Why?! You know she doesn’t return your feelings, yet you had to go and blurt them out.  _

I let out a long sigh, and the hurt and fury drains out of me. A numb emptiness takes its place. I step into the shadows and reappear in the camp. The Illyrians are beginning to pack up the war camp, but the central tents are still erected. As I pass by the command tent, Rhys steps out of it. 

He raises his eyebrows.  _ Is it safe?  _

I nod.  _ Drakon and I flew it to his ship personally this morning.  _

_ Thank you, Azriel.  _

Feyre greets me, rubbing her eyes. I continue towards my tent, but a gentle hand on my arm stops me. “I’ve been looking for you.” When I turn around, Elain holds out Truth-Teller towards me. “Thank you for… everything.” 

Some of the numbness evaporates as she smiles at me. Her scent is sweet and crisp… like fruit or flowers warm from the sun. “It was my pleasure,” I say. Concern flashes in her eyes for a moment. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. 

A sudden urge to confide in Elain, to tell her everything, almost overwhelms me.  _ She doesn’t need to get tangled into your mess. She just lost her father. Her… mate is back. It’s time you put distance between you two.  _ I nod and take my dagger. Our hands briefly brush against each other, but I pull back quickly. My heartbeat quickens again. 

Elain opens her mouth to say something, but Lucien comes around the corner of one of the tents. His russet eye narrows on us, how close we are standing and the way Elain is looking at me. I greet him politely and excuse myself. Neither of them say anything as I duck into my tent. 

I begin packing the things in my tent, but thoughts of everything that happened this morning keep sneaking into my mind. Near midday, a few uninjured Illyrians arrive to finish packing the war tents. The others are sitting around a table, eating a last meal before we winnow back to Velaris. 

Mor chats happily with Amren and Feyre. I avoid meeting her eye and sit down beside Cassian. Elain and Nesta aren’t at the table. “It will be nice to be home,” Cassian remarks. I nod in agreement and begin devouring the meat stew and fresh bread. 

Both he and Rhys study me for a moment. “What’s eating you?” Cassian whispers. 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say. Rhysand looks at me and shrugs. He shoots Cassian a  _ shut up  _ look when he opens his mouth to say something. After the meal, Nesta and Elain emerge from one of the remaining tents. Nesta refuses to look at Cassian or anyone, her face more sullen than ever before. Elain casts a worried glance towards me, but she doesn’t approach me. 

“Let’s go home,” Rhysand says. He reaches his hand out towards Feyre. 

The foyer of the townhouse materializes around us. Amren mutters something about real food. Cassian lets out a soft snort. “A monumental sacrifice.” 

Those silver eyes flick to where Nesta stands near the stairs. “I’m surprised you didn’t take the king’s head to be stuffed and mounted on your wall.” 

Mor rolls her eyes. “Some would consider that joke to be in bad taste, Amren.” 

“I saved your asses. I’m entitled to say what I want.” Amren shrugs and walks into the city. 

“The new Amren is even crankier than the old one,” Elain says into the silence. The others burst out laughing. I lean against the wall as Feyre turns to her sisters. 

Mor appears and throws her arm over my shoulder. Cassian is under her other arm. “Come on. We need a drink.” 

Cassian’s eyes light up at this. “We’re opening the fancy bottles.” Rhys chuckles and reminds us to save him some.

“We’re not going to try too hard,” Mor whispers. Mischief sparkles in her eyes as she looks at me, but I see the guilt in them. I take a deep breath and push down the grief at her rejection. Now is the time to celebrate coming home, the end of a war. 

⧪

The distant sound of screaming startles me awake again. I leap from my bed, Truth-Teller in my hand. The room is empty and silent. Sinking to my bed, I let out a long sigh. A glance out my window tells me dawn is an hour away. I stretch my wings and quickly dress. 

I fly through the chilly air, savoring the fresh breeze on my face. The practice ring is empty. I pull out my blade and slide into a warm-up form. Weeks after the war, I am still awakened at night by the sound of dying Illyrians and the sounds of crows cawing. 

Mor’s rejection still stings whenever I think of her. She doesn’t treat me any differently, but I still see the guilt in her eyes whenever our gazes meet.  _ I should just forget her and move on. Find another lover for the time being.  _ Elain’s smile cuts through these thoughts. I feel no desire for female companionship.  _ Except hers.  _

Lucien still stays in Velaris, visiting the townhouse almost every day. He and Elain share friendly conversations, but she hasn’t accepted the bond yet. There is talk of him journeying with Vassa on her return to the continent, finding a way to break the curse on her. 

I shake my head to clear it. I concentrate on the movements of my body as the sun climbs closer to the horizon. At daybreak, Cassian lands on the balcony. “You’re up early,” he remarks. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

He nods in understanding. “Come on. Let’s see what you’re made of.”  

Hours later, both of us sink into armchairs panting and dripping sweat. Cassian offers me a glass of water before gulping down his own. “I’m worried,” Cassian says after our breathing returns to normal. “There has been… talk of discontent in the Illyrian camps.” 

I nod. “I’ve heard whispers but nothing worth worrying about. So far, anyway.” 

Cassian lets out a deep sigh, running his hands over his face. “I keep seeing them, Az. Every damned night I see the piles of bodies. The Cauldon incinerating our forces. I keep hearing Nesta screaming my name. If it hadn’t been for her, Az… I…” 

I squeeze his shoulder. He exhales sharply before rising to his feet. We walk to the balcony and launch ourselves into the air. Many of the homes that were destroyed in Hybern’s attack have been rebuilt, but there are many more that remain in shambles. 

Despite the destruction, the horrors these people faced, laughter still floats up to us. Children race each other in the streets, families stroll together, and the artists’ quarter remains bright and colorful.  _ Hope. This place gives me hope.  _ By the time we land in front of the townhouse, the heaviness in my heart has lifted. 

Cass pushes the door open with his shoulder. Feyre and Elain lounge in the sitting room, laughing together. The lingering smells of bacon and toast remind me how famished I am. “There’s food in the kitchen,” Feyre calls. 

I lean against the doorway, enjoying the food and listening to my friends chatting happily. Elain steals glances at me from time to time, but I don’t look at her. The shadows dance over my face, whispering to me.  _ There is discontent in the Illyrian camps. Blame and anger at the deaths of warriors, old and young. Mourning families and resentful camp lords cry for your blood. The lord Rhysand and Cassian as well.  _

Elain’s scent washes over me. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” She takes the empty plate gently from my hand before disappearing into the kitchen. I follow her into the garden, the flowers beginning to wilt with the coming autumn. 

She perches on the lip of the fountain. I send shadows to surround the garden, ensuring we are not overheard. Leaning against a metal arch covered with vines, I watch Elain as she runs her fingers over the carved stone. “I am having visions again. I keep seeing the Illyrians. Angry, vengeful Illyrians. I can’t see their faces, but I keep hearing them saying all of your names.” 

I nod. My voice is polite, cool even. “There are whispers of… discontent in the camps. We lost many Illyrians during the war. Some of their families blame us, Rhysand in particular. Don’t worry about it. We will handle it.” 

“Is that why you have been gone so much?” Elain asks quietly. 

“I… I have been busy with my duties,” I reply simply. My pulse pounds in my ears.

Elain nods. Her hands clench in her lap. The silence between us grows heavier. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry into the High Lord’s affairs, especially as they don’t concern me.” She closes her eyes for a long moment. “I have been worried. You seem troubled by something.”

“You aren’t prying, Elain.” My breath catches slightly as she looks at me. “Please, don’t worry about me.” 

“Do you still see them?” she asks. “Every night, when I close my eyes, I see them. My father, Nesta and Cassian, the king. I hear that awful laughter.” Tears leak from her eyes. “I haven’t told anyone else because I know they have their own thoughts, their own nightmares. I don’t want to be a burden on them.” 

I step closer to Elain. My scarred fingers brush away the tears. “We all have our nightmares. We all have darkness in our pasts. You can choose to let it break you or overcome it. Just remember that you are part of this family now, so you don’t have to face it alone.” 

“How did you do it?” she asks, her hand brushing against the swirling scars. 

“It took a lot of time and help from Rhys and Cassian. I didn’t do it alone.” 

“Did they pay for what they did?” Icy rage chills Elain’s voice. Grim satisfaction crosses her face when I nod. “Nesta… Nesta wants to make Graysen pay for what he did to me. For scorning me. I don’t want her to have blood on her hands. I love… loved him, but I know that I cannot dwell on him forever.” 

I nod again. Elain sighs before continuing. “I also have a mating bond.” 

“You don’t have to accept the bond.” 

“Would it really be fair to Lucien if I didn’t? Shouldn’t I at least  _ try _ to make it work?” Tears well in her eyes again. “Even if I already… First, I was Made against my will. Now, I have a mating bond that I don’t even want. I feel as if my life will never truly be my own.” 

I pull Elain into my arms as she breaks into quiet sobs. Stroking her hair, I hold her until her crying quiets into hiccups. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and steps away from me. “You must think I’m so stupid.” 

“Not at all, Elain. I… I felt the same for the first several decades of my life. If it wasn’t for Rhysand, I would still be a lowly bastard in a war camp if I wasn’t dead. We cannot control what is given to us, but we can choose how we face it.” 

“I feel horrible. Lucien is very kind and good, but... I don’t love him the way Feyre loves Rhysand. I don’t think I could ever love him that way, but I have to at least try.” 

“Elain, the decision is yours to make. You do not have to accept the bond.” 

Before she can respond, the shadows alert me to someone entering the garden. Footsteps race up the path toward us. Elain’s face drains of color as Lucien turns the corner. “Are you alright?” he asks. 

Elain darts towards the house without a word. Lucien reaches out a hand towards her but doesn’t follow. The male rounds on me, primal rage blazing in his russet eye. “What did you do to her? If you touch her, I’ll...” he growls.

The shadows around me writhe in response to the threat. “Do  _ not  _ threaten me, Lucien. She might be your mate, but I will ensure Elain is happy. No matter the cost. No matter what obstacles I have to eliminate.” 

Lucien snarls at me quietly once more before whirling around and storming away. My own rage drains out of me, leaving me feeling confused. Shaking my head, I step through the shadows to find Rhys and report to him about the war camps. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Elain**

I feel more than see Lucien lurking in the dining room eating a late lunch. His presence makes it hard to concentrate on the book in my hands, but I don’t have the courage to ask him to leave. Cassian and Rhysand’s voices rumble through the nearby door of the High Lord’s study. 

Sighing, I put my book down. The sky is gray and frosty. I grab a cloak from the hooks and go out into the streets of Velaris. Even after months of living here, I still am not used to hearing children laughing and a people living in peace. The streets I take are full of people shopping and admiring the reconstructed buildings. As I cross the Sidra, the buildings, while still beautiful, exude an air of neglect and shabbiness. 

I push open a grimy door and climb some stairs. The reek of sweat and urine permeate the air.  _ Nesta… why are you living like this?  _ I knock loudly on Nesta’s door, ignoring the muttered curses and the sound of a male voice.  _ Not another one.  _

My elder sister’s face appears in the crack of the door. Her once neat hair is ragged and unwashed. Her face, once so elegant and beautiful, has become drawn and pale. “What do you want?” she growls. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.” 

“I came by to see if you would like to have dinner with me tonight. The others are out of the city, and I wanted to try a new restaurant that just opened.” 

Nesta’s eyes turn into chips of ice. “No, thank you.” She moves to shut the door, but I put my foot in the crack. 

“How long are you going to hide in here?” I ask. Seeing my sister, my fiery and iron-willed sister, living in such squalor ignites my temper.

“Leave me alone, Elain!” she snarls. Her face contorts with rage. 

“Nesta! You can’t keep hiding. Please. I miss you!” Hot tears sting my eyes. 

Her shoulders slump forward. “I just want to be left alone to live  _ my  _ life. You don’t need to see me like this.” 

“Then stop living like this, Nesta!” 

“I have nothing more to say to you, Elain.” She pushes my foot away with hers and slams the door in my face. I wipe my eyes and head back to the townhouse. Feyre and Mor are at the moonstone palace, attending to some court business. Azriel left three days ago. Cassian and Rhysand are journeying to the Illyrian war camps. 

Lucien is mercifully gone when I return home. I sink into an armchair near the roaring fireplace, but the warmth doesn’t reach me. It was another empty day, but exhaustion drags me into a deep sleep. 

The house is dark and silent when I wake up. Only a faint glow from dying embers illuminates the sitting room. Shadows stir and withdraw from my sight when I look at them.  _ Azriel.  _ Rubbing my eyes, I make my way to the roof. The stars look so much closer here than they did in the human lands. 

He leans against the railing surrounding the roof, gazing up at the stars. I stand next to Azriel, aware of how close we are standing. “I used to sneak out of my bed all the time to look at the stars when I was still human. My mother always disapproved since the stars couldn’t help our family succeed.” 

“Before I escaped my father’s keep, I only saw the stars through my shadows. The first night I was free, I spent the entire night in a tree, gazing out at the stars. I thought they were the most beautiful thing in existence.”

“How was your mission?"

“It was… successful.” Azriel continues staring up at the glittering stars. Bands of light dance across the sky in tones of pink and green. “It’s rare to see the aurora so early in the autumn. It normally only reaches this far south in the deep winter.” 

“It’s so beautiful!” I exclaim. A smile forms on the shadowsinger’s face. We fall into silence, admiring the view spread below us. “I… I went to see Nesta today.” 

Azriel nods, waiting for me to continue. “She… she still won’t talk to me. I’m worried about her, Azriel. I’ve never seen Nesta so… so defeated. I’m afraid she is going to lose herself in this mess.” 

“Her wounds run deeper than she will ever admit, even to herself. As much as it hurts those who love her, only Nesta can decide if and when she allows her wounds to begin healing.” 

“I’m her sister! I should be able to do something for her.” 

Azriel lays his hand over mine. “Nesta has to decide to open up to you.” I meet his gaze, seeing the pity and sadness in his eyes.    


I quickly wipe my eyes and nod. “I… I know. It’s just…” 

He nods again. I squeeze his hand in mine, feeling the texture of his burn scars. “What did you do to those that hurt you?” 

“I made sure they never hurt anyone ever again,” Azriel says coldly. The icy rage in his voice and face sends another thrill of primal fear through me. While Cassian blazes with the fire of a warrior, Azriel’s power lays in a deep and primal rage. Fire and ice.

“I read in a book that there once was a human that thought stars were made of both fire and ice. He said a star was a ball of ice that had caught fire and burned for more lifetimes than humans could ever fathom.” I exhale sharply. “I always thought that man seemed mad. Why would he spend time wondering about the stars and the moon when there were so many problems here? Now that we have survived a war, I wonder if he looked at the stars so much to avoid seeing the horrors here.” 

Azriel says nothing. He stares at the night sky, his shadows sliding over his skin and armor like water.  _ Shadowsinger is a fitting title.  _ “Where do the shadows come from?” 

“No one knows. I only remember hearing the shadows whispering to me in that black pit. I was lonely and afraid, so I listened to all they told me. As time passed, I realized I could control them.” 

“There is something… almost beautiful about them,” I say, reaching out to touch a tendril on his arm. “I feel as if I should be afraid of them, but they’re almost comforting.” 

Azriel’s voice is neutral as he says, “They are a tool to be wielded as I see fit. They can kill or comfort, spy or protect.” 

“Do they truly sing to you?” I ask. 

“They speak to me, whisper things.” 

As my hand makes contact with his arm, one of the shadows crawls up my skin. It wraps around my body, my face. I hold perfectly still as it caresses my cheek. Azriel watches it intently as it rejoins the others dancing over his skin. His face remains unreadable as he drops his hand from mine. 

“Have you been… alright?” he asks softly. 

“Yes. I’ve been bored since everyone is often busy attending their duties, but I get by. Nuala and Cerridwen bring me plenty of books to keep myself entertained.”  _ Lucien would keep you company if you would let him.  _ I push down the thoughts, the guilt. My mate often visits me, but things between us are too tense and awkward for us to find words. 

“I have to leave again the day after tomorrow. There are reports from a Fae territory on the continent that I must confirm.” Azriel averts his gaze. 

My heart drops at his words. I reach a hand towards his cheek and turn his head to me. “You… you will be careful, won’t you?” 

“Of course.” 

The air between us grows charged as we stare into each other’s eyes. My cheeks grow warm. I shiver against the cold and drop my hand. “I’m sure you are exhausted. I should let you sleep. G-good night, Azriel.” 

“Good night, Elain.” I quickly return to my room and shut the door. My heart thunders in my ears as I lean against the carved wood.  _ What am I doing? Why the hell am I so drawn to Azriel? He… he loves Mor. He has loved her for five hundred years. He isn’t going to forget her easily, even if she doesn’t return his feelings. Besides, I… I have a mate.  _

⧪

Several days later,  my attention is dragged away from my latest book by an insistent knocking on the town house door. I open the door to find a messenger. He hands me a letter and bows before racing away. The envelope is addressed to Rhysand. 

I knock on his study door, but the room is silent. I push open the door and lay the envelope on the large desk. The room is warm and comfortable. Various reports, many written by Azriel himself, cover the surface of the desk. My eyes are drawn to them. 

Names of territories and countries I have never heard of stand out. The names of the human queens are prominent as well. However, it is the name of my mate that draws my attention. I listen carefully, but the house is empty and silent. I pick up the papers and scan them. Reports of where Lucien has been going and who he has been seeing since we returned to Velaris. I don’t see my name mentioned, but Tamlin’s name appears several times. 

_ Why is Lucien returning to the Spring Court? Why are they spying on my mate?  _

I quickly set the papers down and leave the study. The proceedings of the Night Court aren’t my concern, but…  _ Why would they be spying on Lucien? Do… do they think he is a spy? Who would he even be spying for? Tamlin?  _

Picking up my book, I try to read, but the words keep running together. I need to move to do something. _ I need to find out what is going on. They’re hiding things from me.  _ I bundle myself in a cloak and gloves and a warm hat before leaving the townhouse. The others might be in the House of Wind. Cassian is in the city, so he most likely is training there. 

The wind cuts through me as I hurry through the empty streets. I am panting by the time I reach the entrance to the House. As I climb the stairs, I formulate a plan. If they won’t tell me what’s going on, I will have to find out for myself. Boredom and loneliness are becoming too familiar companions. Even if I have to beg Rhysand for a job, I will. 

Cassian and Azriel are facing each other in the sparring ring when I reach the top of the stairs. Their blades clash together, and both males drip with sweat. The sight of Azriel’s bare back and wings warms me to my very core. I stand in the shadows, admiring the way both males move and the whorls of black ink across their chests. 

The grace and ferocity of their movements drives the thought of Lucien and the report from my mind. It calls to a primal part of me, drawing me towards the males. Both of them stop and look at me as I enter the room. “Elain!” Cassian exclaims. “What are you doing here?” 

His words snap me out of the trance I was in. “I… I… I was looking for Rhysand,” I say quickly. My cheeks flush as I stare down at the floor. “I need to speak to him.” 

Cassian looks at Azriel who nods. “He will be here soon,” Azriel announces. Both males wipe the sweat from their bodies and pull their shirts back on. 

“Is everything alright?” Cassian asks as he pours glasses of water for all of us. I accept mine gratefully. The long climb has left me parched. 

“Yes, I just…” My sentence falls away as Rhysand appears on the balcony. His fighting leathers show off his muscular form. I have never been completely comfortable around the High Lord. 

“Are you alright, Elain?” he asks gently. His face is concerned. 

“Yes, I… I wanted to ask if I could do anything to help,” I whisper. The males exchange a look. “I am growing bored and restless just sitting here. I want to do something to help the Court, especially since this is now my home.” 

“Of course, you can help,” Rhysand replies. “What would you like to do?” 

“Anything.” 

Cassian steps forward. “Would you consider learning how to defend yourself? There might be a time that you would need it if you will be leaving Velaris.” 

“Who would be training me?” I ask. Azriel’s face remains blank as the shadows move across his skin, hiding his eyes every so often. 

“I would,” Cassian says.  _ I don’t want to be defenseless. I don’t want to always rely on the others for protection.  _

“Then, yes, I will.” 

The general gives me an approving nod, a broad smile on his face. “Great! We can start right away.” He gives me an appraising look. “We need to get you in something more efficient though. Skirts aren’t great for training.” 

“Wouldn’t it be better for me to learn how to fight in a skirt? Outside of Velaris, I would most likely be wearing a dress. I’m not comfortable wearing pants.” 

Cassian turns to Rhysand with a pleading look on his face. The High Lord just shrugs and turns to leave, amusement glittering in his eyes. Azriel stretches his wings and moves to follow Rhysand. He looks at me as he passes, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“Let’s start tomorrow. It’s late in the day, and I am too tired,” I tell Cassian. “I still have to walk back to the townhouse.” 

“I’ll fly you back,” Azriel says quietly. I take his offered hand. Soon, I am cradled against his body, the wind whipping the hair from my face. “Why were you in Rhysand’s study?” 

My heart jumps into my throat. “Are you spying on me?” I retort. 

“I have eyes on the house at all times,” he says simply. 

“There was a letter brought to him. I put it on his desk.” Azriel gives me a pointed look. I sigh. “I found the report you had written on Lucien, and I was curious. Why are you watching him?” 

“I watch everyone.” I give the spymaster a stern look of my own. “Rhysand asked me to keep an eye on him. He knows many of our secrets now, and it’s my duty to ensure he doesn’t pass them along. While he is a friend to our Court, you are his mate and haven’t accepted the bond.” 

“Everyone keeps reminding me,” I say bitterly. 

“Mated males are… volatile if they feel their mate’s life is in danger. He could betray us if he felt it would keep you safe. This is a prevention of that.” 

“Would Lucien really do that?” I whisper.  _ I might not want him as my mate, but I don’t think he is the kind of male to betray us.  _

“Maybe not. A mated male, particularly one who has had their bond… rejected, can do things outside of their normal character. There would be too many lives at risk, so we are doing this as a precaution.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“It is very easy to talk to you, Elain.” Azriel looks away as he says this. I place my hand over his and squeeze lightly. Azriel hovers in midair. His wings beating echoes the thudding in my own chest as our gazes meet. 

The arms holding me tighten as I am drawn closer to those eyes. The kiss pours through me, filling in every crack and wound on my heart. Every thought vanishes from my mind as ancient ice and darkness encompasses me. Azriel’s strong arms squeeze harder, pulling me closer to him. I wrap my own arms around his neck, savoring the muscles underneath his shirt. 

He pulls away, leaving me feeling empty and aching. I stroke the side of his face and watch the shadows dancing beneath my fingers.  _ I love you _ . Azriel clears his throat and adjusts his grip on me. We descend to the street in silence. My knees feel weak as my feet hit the cobblestones. “Thank you, Azriel.” 

I quickly move into the house, ignoring the cries of greeting from Mor and Feyre. Lucien sits at the table with them. His eyes pierce through me, as if he can see what just happened. I slide the lock on my bedroom door in place before collapsing into bed.  _ What… what just happened?  _ I don’t have long to think about it before I fall into a restless sleep.

_ “This is your fault, you know.” Lucien’s voice echoes around me. “You could have prevented this. They were going to steal you away from me. They were going to hurt you, use you, Elain. I could have protected you, but you scorned me.”  _

_ I open my eyes. I recognize the House of Wind towering over Velaris, but none of the buildings are standing. Piles of rubble and burning fires surround me. A hand brushes down my cheek, caressing it. I jump at the contact. “Even now, you flinch away from me. Why do you reject me, Elain? I destroyed everything that stood between us.”  _

_ As Lucien walks in front of me, a pile of bodies catches my attention. Bile rises up in my throat as I begin to retch. Nesta. Feyre. Everyone. All of them stare at me accusingly with their empty and dead eyes. One figure has been staked to the wall, his wings spread out as if he were in flight. My knees collapse as Azriel reaches out a hand towards me. “No… no.” I whisper.  _

_ I clutch at my chest, struggling to breathe, as Lucien laughs. “You are mine, Elain. No one else may have you. If you choose to reject me, I will tear this world apart for you.” I hear a blade being pulled from a sheathe. “Look at me.”  _

_ My eyes seem to find his of their own accord. I know the blade in Lucien’s hand. Truth-Teller. The blade reflects the roaring flames as I begin to move. My feet fly across the space between where I am and where I should be. Lucien’s arm arcs through the air and pain fills my chest, my entire being.  _

_ Azriel calls out for me, weakly. I clutch at the gaping hole in my chest. Lucien’s face swims into view. His manic smile has vanished, replaced by a look of deep disgust and loathing. He lifts the dagger again. I close my eyes, expecting another blow. The only sound is the crackling flames and… gurgling, gasping breaths.  _

_ “I will find you again, Elain.” His voice begins to fade. “Even in death, I will find you.”  _

I jerk awake, tears streaming down my cheeks and my breath racing. Azriel’s earlier words echo through my mind.  _ Would Lucien really go to such lengths? Is that a risk I’m willing to take or is it my duty to accept the mating bond to protect this land, these people?  _

The mantle clock chimes twice. I roll over again and again as my mind races. Finally, I climb out of bed, put on a dressing gown, and head to the kitchen. There is a light in the sitting room. Lucien dozes in one of the chairs, a book on his chest. 

His eye open and find mine as I stare at him. There is no sign of the monstrous Lucien from my dream. “Are you alright?” he asks quietly. 

“Yes. I just had a bad dream.” He nods his understanding. The silence grows tense again. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Lucien finally says. He pats the arm of the chair next to him. I enter the room and close the door. 

“I… It was just the battle. The king.” When I sit in the chair, Lucien pats my hand softly before moving his hand away. I can’t look at him as I think of Azriel’s hand instead. 

“I’m sorry you had to see such things, Elain,” he whispers. I shrug. “You are strong, though. You didn’t let such atrocities dull your spirit. I admire that.”

“Thank… thank you.” I twist a lock of hair around my fingers. “Are you… okay?” 

Lucien nods. “I have been spending time with Vassa and Jurien. The human lands are being rebuilt, but it is going to take time to heal all of those wounds. Many of them don’t trust me enough to help with the repairs.” 

His words remind me of Graysen. “I understand.” 

Lucien’s expression hardens as he understands my meaning. His hand finds mine again and squeezes. “I won’t let anyone else hurt you, Elain. It is my duty to protect you.” 

My heart drops at his words. The images from my nightmare flash through my mind.  _ Was it just a nightmare? It could have been a vision. I can prevent it from happening.  _ By accepting the bond, I can ensure my nightmare never comes to fruition. 

_ Yes, but at what cost? Is it worth sacrificing your happiness, your own heart, for this? You love Azriel, not Lucien.  _ I push the words, the truth they speak, deep into my heart. For my family, for my home, and for… Azriel, I would sacrifice anything.  _ Even my own happiness.  _ I place my own hand over Lucien’s and offer him a warm smile. “I appreciate that, Lucien.” 

  
The hope in his eyes, his answering smile, stabs through me. I feel the joy from my earlier kiss with Azriel draining out of me as the knife in my heart twists.  _ I’m so sorry, Azriel.  _


	19. Chapter 19

**Elain**

The mountains surrounding Velaris stand watch over the silent city. Fresh snow covers every roof and street, glowing orange in the early dawn light. I pass through the shield protecting the city, ignoring the sting of the freezing air. The House of Wind beckons me as I approach it. 

Rhysand and Cassian are waiting for me. “What did you find out?” 

“There’s no sign of an army. The rumors are just that: rumors.” I pull Truth-Teller from its sheath absently polish the blade. “Our friend will be spending the Solstice with Tamlin though.” I am careful not to mention the Autumn Court male’s name. A pit of icy rage threatens to consume me. 

“I will be paying him a visit as well,” Rhysand announces. “Feyre isn’t coming with, but we will be spending the Solstice together. All of us, as a family.” 

“What about the war camps?” Cassian asks. 

“We are still going, as we planned, but you  _ will  _ be spending the holiday in Velaris with us.” Cassian opens his mouth to protest again, but Rhys silences him with a look. “That’s an order. Direct from your High Lady.” 

I smirk at this, but the smile fades quickly. I don’t miss the concerned look Rhysand gives me. “What are you doing, Az?” Cassian asks. 

I shrug. My Solstice presents are hidden well away from Cassian and the others, as previous experience taught me.  _ All but one gift. _ “I have an errand to run. I would suggest you get your presents soon. The Solstice is in a week.” 

“I have my gifts,” Cassian scoffs. “I’ll get the decorations.” 

Rhysand laughs as I roll my eyes. I walk back to the balcony and winnow to the streets of Velaris. I pass a flower shop alive with bright colors of different flowers. The scent of the blooms draws me in. Potted plants and seeds line the shelves. A young female greets me warmly. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a gift for a... friend that loves flowers,” I say. The female studies me with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Can you help me?”

⧪

“What did you do?” 

Feyre and Cassian stand in the middle of the town house, covered in pine needles and reeking of wine. Garlands and wreaths are strewn about the room, placed carelessly and without any semblance of neatness. Sighing, I straighten the worst offenders. “Az, relax for a minute.” Cassian gestures to a plate of cookies. “Have some wine. Cookies.” 

I glare at him over my shoulder as I hang the garland over the mantle. “Take off your coat,” Feyre urges. She points to the closet. I sigh and move to the windows where more garland drags on the floor. 

“It’s like you two tried to make it as ugly as possible.” 

Cassian clutches his heart. “We take offense to that.” The stench of wine reaches me across the room. I roll my eyes and sigh again. 

“Poor Az,” Feyre coos. She pours another glass of wine and offers the bottle to me. “Wine will make you feel better.” Cassian grins. 

I glare from him to Feyre then to the bottle before swiping it out of her hand. I down the rest of the bottle in a few swallows. Both of their grins widen as Rhysand walks in. “Want another bottle, Az?” 

I choke on the last mouthful of wine. “I would like to explain…” 

Rhysand cuts me off with a wave of his hand, smiling. “Five centuries, and you think I don’t know who’s behind my bottles of wine disappearing.” He looks at Cassian who salutes him before finishing his glass of wine. The High Lord surveys the decorations and laughs again. “I can tell which ones Azriel managed to fix and which ones he didn’t.” He looks to his mate. “I expected better from an artist.” 

The door opens, blasting us with cold air, as Mor and Elain enter. Elain goes into the kitchen with a wave to all of us. “It’s cold as hell!” Mor brushes snow from her coat. Her face drops as she sees the decorations. “Who let Cassian and Feyre decorate?” 

I choke a laugh into a cough as Mor glares at me. That sharp gaze turns to Cassian and Feyre as she sees the bottles of wine on the table. “You couldn’t have waited until I got here to break into the good bottles?” 

Rhys reminds us that the bottles are always available. “That might not be a good idea,” Amren says as she enters the townhouse. Snow covers her entire coat, only her hair and eyes visible in the white. 

“You look like an angry snowball,” Cassian says. My grin broadens as Amren levels her own glare at him. 

“Careful, boy,” she says, showering the floor with snow as she removes her coat. “You wouldn’t want to start a war you can’t win. Especially with Nesta coming for the Solstice.” 

All of the merriment drains out of the room at this statement. Only the sounds of low voices and dishes tinkling together fill the house. Feyre goes into the kitchen, and I hear her and Elain speaking together. The sound of her voice stabs through me, but I ignore it as Mor tells another joke. 

The scents of food waft through the house. Cassian clutches his stomach and groans. He keeps looking at the door to the kitchen. I follow his gaze, and my heart drops to the floor as Elain steps out, holding a dish of steaming potatoes. Feyre follows her with a platter of chicken. Cassian leaps to his feet and races to the table. More food appears, carried by the wraith twins Nuada and Cerridwen. 

Elain lets out a squeal as Cassian lifts her into his arms and kisses her on the cheek. Mor does the same. Everyone sits and begins to fill their plates. Elain’s cheeks are flushed with embarrassment and joy as she moves to put the potatoes down. An image of another female, downtrodden and defeated, enters my mind at the sight.  _ Mother…  _ Her entire body goes still as I enter the dining room, holding my glass of wine. 

“Hello.” Her voice is breathless as she brushes some stray hairs behind her ear. I move towards her and take the large dish of potatoes out of her hands. 

“Sit. I’ll take care of it.” 

She blinks a few times before brushing her empty hands against her apron. With a small gasp, she races out of the room. “I’ll be right back.” I set the dish in the middle of the table as Cassian reaches for it. I grip his hand tightly. 

“Wait.” Everyone freezes mid-bite. 

Cassian glares at me. “Wait for what? Gravy?” 

He tries to pull his hand back, but I squeeze harder. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

Mor sticks her out her tongue, a streak of green, at Cassian. He looks at her half-eaten plate before leaning back, hands behind his head. “I never knew you were such a stickler for manners, Az.” 

Releasing his hand as footsteps echo down the hall, I sit and fill my wine glass. Elain sweeps into the room, her face bright and hair freshly braided. The joy in her eyes knocks the breath out of me. “Please, don’t wait on my account.” I pretend not to see the dirty look Cassian throws me. 

Once Elain fills her plate, the noises of clinking silverware and eating continues. My High Lady’s voice cuts through the silence. “Still getting used to it?” 

“Blood tastes better,” Amren replies simply. Cass and Mor choke back laughs. Those silver eyes turn to both of them. “It didn’t take so much time to consume.” She takes a very small bite of chicken. “Not to mention that there are other… unpleasant results of eating.” 

I take a deep gulp of my wine, meeting Cassian’s eyes over the rim. He fights the smile forming on his face. Her voice washes over me again. “What sort of results?” 

“ _ Don’t  _ answer that,” Rhysand cuts in. Amusement dances in his eyes despite the annoyed looks from his Second. 

“Do I need to tell you how much of an inconvenience it is finding a place to relieve myself  _ everywhere I go? _ ” 

Cassian bites down on his knuckles, shoulders shaking and red-faced. Mor hides her face in her napkin, her entire body shaking. “Shall we start building public toilets for you throughout Velaris, Amren?” Rhys asks. 

I close my eyes for a long moment, gripping the edge of the table. “I mean it, Rhysand.” Those silver eyes shoot daggers at the High Lord, at all of us. Feyre coughs pointedly, staring up at the ceiling. Amren dismisses us with a wave of her hand. “I should have selected a male form. At least you can whip it out and go wherever you like without having to worry about spilling on yourselves.”

Howls of laughter erupt from Cassian. He bangs the table with his fist. Mor grips her side, giggling madly as she slides in her chair. Feyre looks at both of them, eyebrows raised before she laughs loudly. For the first time in weeks, I feel like laughing. 

The atmosphere of the room brims with laughter and joy. I take a few more bites of my food as the conversation continues. It is Elain’s voice, her question, that draw my attention. “Could you have done it? Decided to take a male form I mean?” 

Tense silence smothers the hilarity of the conversation as Amren studies Elain. “Yes. In my other form, I was neither. I simply was.” 

“Then why pick this body?” 

“I was more drawn to the female form.” 

“And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” 

Elain doesn’t drop her gaze until Amren speaks again. “Are you asking out of curiosity for my past or your own future?” 

“What do you mean?” 

There is a hint of… kindness in Amren’s reply. “There’s not going back to being human, girl.” 

Elain’s confusion hardens into cold defiance, her cheeks reddening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The grief under her icy tone awakens an urge to comfort Elain, to touch her, inside of me. I clench my fists under the table.  _ She’s mated, remember? She chose him, not you. Him.  _

“Pick on someone your own size,” Cassian says around a mouthful of food. 

“I feel bad for the mice,” I mutter. 

The gratitude in Elain’s eyes eases the bitter thoughts rolling around in my mind. After the dinner, we dig into the bottles of wine in the cellar. Feyre and Rhys leave the house, amid a gale of whistles and calls from Mor and Cassian. Elain smiles broadly before excusing herself for the night. I vanish into the night to quiet my thoughts and make sure everything is quiet. 

⧪

_ “Happy Solstice, Azriel.”  _

My mother’s voice echoes in my dreams, pulling me from sleep. Cassian’s snores reverberate from the walls of our cramped quarters. I stand up to stretch, enjoying the pull on my wings, before throwing a pillow at the sleeping general. He jumps awake with a loud snort. 

“What’s going on?” he mumbles sleepily. I toss another pillow in his direction that is deflected with a surge of his Siphon’s power. 

“Solstice,” I say. Cass leaps out of bed, a wide grin on his face. “Let’s go get Rhys.” 

Voices float up the stairs, masking our footsteps. The shadows aid in making us silent. Feyre’s head whips up when she notices us, but we are already draggin Rhysand towards the door. Without missing a beat, the High Lady calls, “Please bring him back in one piece.” 

The wicked smirk on Cassian’s face is contagious. “We’ll take good care of him.”

“If he can keep up,” I add. 

A blast of frigid air hits us as we open the front door. “Tradition,” Rhys calls to his mate before the door slams and we winnow into the mountains. The ground is covered in deep, pure white snow. Only the cabin disturbs the landscape, but it doesn’t look out of place. 

The moment we land, Cassian races away and hurriedly begins piling snow into a large drift. Rapid, muffled plopping sounds pound against the wall I constructed. Several feet high and a foot thick. The snowballs bounce right off. My brothers laugh and howl as snowballs begin flying across the field. 

The cold bites my wings, my fingers as the hours pass, but I ignore it. Cassian howls as I pummel him with snowballs. He ducks behind his wall, cursing me. Two figures appear in the distance. Feyre and Mor study us for a while before moving towards the cabin, arms linked together. 

Cassian appears over the lip of his fort again, his arm lifted to assault me. Rhysand takes advantage of his distraction and hits him again. I throw two balls high into the air. Both of them laugh as they see them. I smirk as Rhysand barks out a curse of his own. 

An hour later, we push through the snow and into the cabin. The females are bundled together under a blanket, glasses of wine in their hands. Rhysand kisses Feyre and leads us to the steam shed. We strip off our sopping wet fighting leathers and enter the darkened shed. 

My brothers still wear huge grins on their faces. Sweat pours down my body from the steam. Rhysand’s scent changes into something carnal, almost smothering us in the enclosed space. Cassian and I exchange amused, but annoyed, glances. I look pointedly at the ceiling as the evidence of my High Lord’s thoughts becomes apparent. 

Without looking down, Cassian gets to his feet and forcefully ejects Rhysand from the shed. He shouts his protest before the door shuts. I hold the door closed with a tendril of shadow, even as Rhys rattles the door knob.  Cass settles back onto the bench. “I don’t think Solstice will be boring anymore.” 


	20. Chapter 20

**Elain**

The tray of pastries almost falls from my hands as I collide with Feyre. She surveys the table, laden with decorated and baked goods. “Those look pretty.” Her praise fills me with pride. 

I place the tray on the table and brush my hands. “They taste as good as they look.” I offer her a heart shaped cookie, sprinkled with sugar. My sister’s eyes light up with joy as she bites into it. 

“How long have you been working on this?” 

I shrug. “Since dawn, but Nuala and Cerridwen were up hours before that.” 

Feyre finishes her dessert and reaches for another one. I muster my courage and ask about Nesta. The disappointment in her eyes tells me enough, but a knock breaks through the silence. My heart leaps into my throat as I race down the hallway. I throw open the door to the entryway, but the lock on the outer door takes a moment. My fingers quiver as I pull open the door. 

I take a step back, every fiber of my being going silent, as Lucien steps over the threshold. There is a strained happiness in his expression as he surveys me for a moment. “Happy Solstice,” he says tightly. 

Feyre greets my mate and leads him into the sitting room. I follow behind them and settle on the edge of the couch, as far away from Lucien as I can manage. “You look well,” Feyre says. 

He extends his hands towards the fire, staring intently into the flames. He looks at me briefly before turning to my sister. My pulse thunders in my mind as I clench my fists in the folds of my skirt. “As do you. Both of you.” 

I bow my head slightly, wishing I could vanish into the wall. A small stack of wrapped boxes catches my attention. “You brought presents,” Feyre says. She is trying to break the awkward silence. 

“It’s Solstice tradition here, isn’t it?” Lucien asks flatly. 

“Would you like to join us for the Solstice?” The words are out of my mouth before I can pull them back. Feyre and Lucien gape at me.  _ Please say no, please say no, please say no.  _

Lucien shakes his head. My entire body sags with relief at his refusal. An angry voice fills my mind.  _ What are you relieved for? Didn’t you say you were going to try and make things work with him?  You know why you have to do this.  _

Blinking back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes, I glance into the dining room where Nuala is bringing another plate of food from the kitchen. The smells are enticing. 

“Where are you going?” Feyre asks. 

“I… I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. If I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.” 

The name of the cursed human queen catches my interest. A rumble of jealousy rises up in my mind. I block out the rest of conversation, wrestling with my emotions.  _ Are you jealous of a pathetic human? She will be dust in a few decades. Lucien is  _ yours _ and no one else’s.  _ I shake my head and push down the thoughts.  _ I don’t care. Let him have another woman. I… Can I really be angry with him if my heart belongs to another?  _

I feel Lucien’s gaze burning into me. Our eyes meet for a moment before images of my vision intrude. I clamber to my feet. “I’ll get refreshments.” Lucien rises as I push open the kitchen door. 

Leaning against the door, I hear my mate let out a long sigh. “How is she?” 

Feyre hesitates for a moment. “Better. She makes no mention of her abilities if they reman.” 

“Good. Is she still…” I hold my breath as I wait for Lucien to continue. “Does she still mourn him?” My temper flares at the implications in his question. The raw  _ possessiveness  _ of his tone. 

“She was deeply in love with him, Lucien.” 

At my sister’s words, I feel a flare of pure rage in the back of my mind. My own anger simmers at this.  _ How dare he? Does he think being my mate entitles him to my affection?  _

“It’s only been a few months. Graysen made it clear the engagement is over, but it might take her longer to move past it.” I brace myself for the rush of grief the name of my previous fiance would normally bring, but none comes. There is only one male that stirs my heart now. I refuse to think of the shadowsinger. 

There is anger in Lucien’s voice. Barely supressed rage and hurt. “You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know?” 

My sister sighs. “I’m sorry. I just…” 

“I don’t have anywhere else to go!” Lucien snaps. I push open the door as my mate opens his mouth to speak again. As I reach the sitting room, his words cut deep into my soul. “ _ I  _ can’t stand being in the same room as her for more than two minutes.  _ I  _ can’t stand…” His words cut off as he notices me in the doorway. 

The anger on his face drains as he sees me. “Elain.” He takes a step towards me, his hand outreached. The gesture, his previous words, and the tug I felt in the back of my mind earlier ignite my temper.  _ I… I can’t do this. I can’t. Being chained to this… this male for the rest of eternity would destroy me. I would rather fling myself from the House of Wind.  _

“Don’t speak to my sister that way,” I say coldly. “I didn’t ask for this bond anymore than you did, Lucien. Please, leave.” 

His mouth opens and closes as he searches for words. We stare intently at one another, his guilty expression only serving to fuel my anger. He turns to Feyre and says something about the gifts he brought before exiting the house, rattling the glass in the door. 

I turn on my heel and go into the kitchen. I remove the heated kettle from the heat. As Feyre enters the room, Nuala and Cerridwen vanish. “What was that about?” Feyre asks gently. 

I shrug and pour myself a cup of tea. “He brought you a present,” she says lamely. 

My sister winces as I glare at her. “So that entitles him to my time, my affection?” 

“No.” She hesitates. “He is a good male. He cares for you.” 

“He doesn’t know me.” Feyre doesn’t answer, but I see the worry and sadness in her eyes. I hide my face in my hands and sigh. “I don’t  _ want _ a mate. I want…”  _ I want Azriel.  _

Feyre lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I'm sorry. I just hate seeing you both unhappy.”

“I know. Thank you.” Feyre smiles and leaves the kitchen. I turn back to the food, piling the final dishes onto the platters. The twins appear to carry them to the table. I thank them and disappear to my room to dress. 

⧪

His touch on my hand sends a jolt of electricity sparking through me. I close my eyes and savor the touch, the scent of shadow and ice that wraps around me. “Happy Solstice,” Azriel says softly. 

I turn to look at him, a smile spreading across my face. I admire the simple cut of his clothing, the Siphons on his hands glowing in the faelight. A tendril of his shadow brushes against my cheek. The others are making a point not to look at us. “I’ve never participated in one of these.” 

“They’re highly overrated,” Amren calls across the room. 

I can’t help laughing into my hand. Another surge of joy fills me as the High Lord brings in the large birthday cake for my sister. The candles on top of the cake glow in the darkened room. “Happy birthday, Feyre,” I say as I kiss her on the cheek. 

“Did you…?”

“Nuala did the decorating though.” Feyre’s eyes widen as she takes in the designs on the sides of the cake. Each tier was decorated with the designs my sister had painted on our chest of drawers all those years ago. “I asked Nuala to do it in that order because you’re the foundation that lifts us. You always have been.” 

My sister swallows hard as she embraces me. Mor calls for cake and presents in her enthusiastic way. We cheer as Feyre blows out her candles. After cutting the cake, a large pile of presents appears from thin air. Cassian leaps into the middle and begins tossing presents at their intended recipients. 

As the gifts are opened, I bask in the joy of my friends, my…  _ family _ . When most of the presents are distributed, a resounding knock on the door silences us all. I hold my breath, waiting.  Feyre moves towards the entryway and opens the door to reveal our older sister. Nesta enters the house as I move to embrace her. “You’ll fall ill if you stay outside. Come sit with me by the fire.” 

My sister’s face, once so elegant, is pallid and gaunt. I feel the bones in her arm as I lead her to the couch. “Don’t take her to the wine, take her to the food. I can see her bones even through the dress.” Nesta tenses at Amren’s words, but she doesn’t respond. 

“We were just getting to the presents,” I say in a falsely bright voice. Nesta won’t miss the pounding in my chest, the tone of my voice. I pour a glass of wine for my sister and take a shot of the fancy liquor the Illyrians are drinking. 

Nesta’s sharp gaze takes in the birthday cake, the decorations. “Happy birthday.” 

“Elain made the cake,” Feyre says nervously. 

Nesta drains her glass and moves towards the bookcases at the back of the room. I take advantage of the silence to find a box in the large pile and bring it to my elder sister. “This is for you,” I tell her. As conversation starts up again, Nesta takes the wrapped box and opens it. “I went to the bookshop by the theater. I asked them for recommendations, and the… female said this author was her favorite.” 

Her voice is rough as she thanks me. The others continue to open their presents, talking and laughing together. I sit with Nesta as she thumbs through the pages in silence. Another box finds its way into my lap. From Lucien. I carefully open the box to reveal a pair of gloves. A card describes their effects. “Enchanted gloves that won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” 

I glance at the gloves laying in a nest of tissue paper for a moment longer before setting the box aside.  _ He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know me at all.  _

“Az, this one’s for you,” Mor says. She lays a small box in his hand. I smile at the shadowsinger.

“That’s from me.” He opens the package. “I had Madja make it for you. A medicine to mix with any drink.” Azriel lifts his eyebrows. I offer him a shy smile. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples all the time.”

Azriel tips his head back and laughs and laughs. The broad smile on his face stops my heart. The others join in with the shadowsinger’s laughter. Cassian snatches the bottle and examines it. My breathing hitches when I see the intensity in his eyes. “Thank you. This will be invaluable.” 

I duck my head as heat rises on my cheeks. Nesta sits stiffly beside me, staring straight ahead as the laughter continues.

⧪

The clock chimes twice when Nesta gets to her feet and announces she is going home. I embrace her tightly and kiss her cheek. Feyre follows her into the entryway as I sink back onto the sofa. Azriel settles himself on the couch next to me, the shadows writhing around his body. “Hello,” I say quietly. 

Cassian is nowhere to be seen. Mor snores softly from another couch. Rhys and Feyre sit in the dining room, speaking softly together. I begin to speak to Azriel about the garden and my plans to expand it. He listens with rapt attention, offering me encouraging smiles every so often. I have to swallow hard every time our eyes meet. 

When the clock strikes three, Feyre and Rhysand vanish to their room upstairs. Azriel stands and stretches. I lean back into the cushions and admire the view of a trained, hearty Illyrian warrior. Here, alone with him, it’s easy to forget every other thought lingering in my mind. I pointedly ignore the box from my mate. 

Azriel offers me his hand. I take it, my fingers brushing over his scars. We step into darkness and reappear in a starlit forest a moment later. The scent of pines and snow surrounds us. 

The only sound is the beating of Azriel’s wings. He holds me in his arms, a blue shield protecting us from the wind. He gazes up at the sky, the stars more vivid here than in Velaris. “This is where Rhysand and Cassian taught me how to fly. This was the first place I felt truly free.” 

“It’s very beautiful,” I say. 

Azriel’s grip tightens for a moment. I study his face, but he hides his emotions well. “As are you,” he whispers. 

I brush his cheek with my thumb. He startles at the contact and stares down at me intently.  _ Cauldron boil me.  _ Warmth blooms in my chest and spreads through my entire body. Desire courses through me, and I lift my face to his. 

_ I love you, Azriel. I love you.  _ I beg him to understand. I want him to know that my heart belongs to him, the male that didn't give up on me, the male that pulled me back from the darkness I had fallen into. 

Azriel hesitates for a moment before he pulls my entire body closer to his. His tongue brushes against my lips, and he deepens the kiss. One of his hands grips my waist while the other twists in my hair. A low moan escapes my throat. His hand starts to explore my back, softly brushing down my bare skin. A shudder of pleasure runs through me. 

“You are so beautiful,” Azriel breathes. My middle clenches at his words just as his hand cups my face. He pulls away, studying my face. Joy radiates from him, keeping the frigid night air at bay. 

I blush and look away. He lifts my head gently until I am looking at him once more. “I mean it, Elain.” His lips brush mine again. 

“I love you, Azriel.” The words hang in the air between us for a moment before fear appears on the shadowsinger’s face. He shakes his head once and tries to pull away from me. I grab his arm. “Listen to me, shadowsinger. Please.” 

He pauses, watching me with rapt attention. Taking a deep breath to calm my shaking limbs, I ask, “Why are you afraid?” 

He hangs his head. “I told you before, I am a broken male, Elain.” 

“I don’t believe you are as broken and dark as you think, Azriel. If you were, I don’t think you would be able to… to love Mor as much as you do. I don’t think you would have been able to save me… to pull me out of the dark place I almost fell into.” 

Azriel says nothing. It’s my turn to lift his head up. “You are a  _ good  _ male, Azriel. You are brave and loyal and kind. Our family needs you.  _ I  _ need you. I can’t accept my mating bond… not while my heart belongs to you.” 

“You intend to reject the bond?” 

“Yes. I… don’t need Lucien. I need  _ you _ . I need the male who sees me, truly sees me. I need my friend that saved me from my own grief consuming me alive. I need the male who made me remember how to smile.” 

A soft smile lights up Azriel’s face. His shadows wrap around us both, pulling me closer to him. He lowers his mouth to my neck, sparks igniting in my blood. I entwine my fingers into his hair and hold him there. His lips trace a path from my shoulder to my lips. “Are you sure, Elain?” 

I nod. He lifts me into his arms and kisses me hard. My hands move down his back and to his wings. I hesitate there before Azriel shifts so my fingers touch the membrane. He lets out a shuddering breath. I draw gentle circles there, savoring the groan of pleasure from the shadowsinger…  _ my  _ shadowsinger. 

Deep inside of me, the mating bond fades to almost nothing as Azriel continues to kiss my neck, my shoulders. I push it down, down, down. Soon, I am laying on the ground, protected from the snow by shadows. Those tendrils of darkness come to life as Azriel gazes down at me. 

Desire burns through me, erasing my shyness and earlier reservations. I want to give everything to this male who stole my heart. I rise to my feet and turn my back to Azriel. “Take it off,” I say. His hazel eyes are wide as he reaches for the stays of my gown. “Do it, Azriel.” Without hesitation, his deft fingers undo the clasps, and my dress falls to the ground in a pool of silk. I hear his sharp intake of breath as I turn to face him. There is hunger in his eyes, primal hunger. 

“Is this truly what you want, Elain?” 

“Yes, it is, Azriel.” The shadowsinger takes me into his arms and lays me back down on the ground. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Azriel**

Elain nuzzles her cheek into my hand as I stroke her face. She pulls on the bottom of my tunic with a mischievous smile. I use a tendril of my power to release the hidden buttons, and the black cloth falls away, joining her jewel colored gown on the snowy ground. Elain traces the lines of my muscles with her fingers. 

The urge to feel every inch of her soft skin, to taste her, hear her calling my name, pounds through me. I bend to kiss her neck again. She arches into me, breathing heavily. Her hands clench my back, her nails digging into the skin. I trace the line of her collar bone before taking her breast into my mouth. Elain’s moan reverberates through me. 

My hands stroke her chest, her stomach, going lower as I tease her with my tongue, my lips. “Azriel…” she groans. I smile wickedly against her skin. Her finger traces the arch of my wing, dragging a growl from my throat. 

I press the evidence of my desire into her hip, savoring her gasp. Tendrils of shadow come to life, wrapping themselves around the shield from my Siphons, shielding us from sight. Elain’s hands reach for my wings again, but I gently hold her back with a shadow. She pulls against it and groans again. “I want to touch you,” she whispers. 

“I know,” I say. She reaches for me with her other hand, but it stops short. Her breathing quickens as I begin tracing the lines of her body again. She writhes against the shadows. A strangled gasp escapes her throat as I kiss the apex of her thighs. “Azriel…” I release her arms, and her fingers wrap themselves in my hair. She pulls slightly, but I don’t lift my head. “Azriel, please.” 

Elain’s breathing quickens, her hands curling into tight fists, as I stroke her with my tongue. She tries to pull away as her climax shatters through her, but I hold her tightly. “Azriel, please,” she begs again. I kiss her, savoring the taste of sun-ripened fruit and spring sunshine. Her hands move down my chest and try to unfasten the button on my pants. 

A satisfied smirk crosses her face when she succeeds. Those soft lips trace a line down my throat as she strokes my arms. I flip us over, setting her gently on my stomach. The shadows curl around us, moving like water over my body and hers. Elain continues her explorations with her fingers and mouth until I am burning with desire. 

I lift her up again, holding her above me. She squirms in my arms and moans. “Please, Azriel.” My name on her lips snaps the last bit of control. I lower her onto me, watching her face. Her mouth slackens as I fill her to the brim. 

The scent of blood fills the air. “Are you alright?” I ask. I move to lift her, but Elain shakes her head. 

“Yes. I’ve… I’ve never been with a man… a male I mean,” she whispers. Elain interlaces her fingers with mine and moves her hips slowly, eliciting an involuntary groan from deep inside of me. “I love you, Azriel.” 

“And I love you, Elain.” Balancing herself on my hands, she moves her hips faster. I thrust into her, savoring the feel of her. Her grip tightens as another climax tears through her. Hearing my name in the noises she makes sends me over the edge. I lift Elain’s shaking body from mine and lay her across my chest. 

I stroke her hair and back as her breathing quiets. Elain lets out a content sigh. “Nesta always told me that… I would never enjoy… what we did.” 

I fight to keep my annoyance with the eldest Archeron sister  out of my voice. “Why is that?” 

“She said men were selfish and didn’t care about the women.” 

“I’m not a man,” I say, a bit of iciness in my voice. 

Elain props herself up on one elbow. “I know you’re not.” Her expression darkens. Sighing, she sits up and hugs her knees. Her breathing hitches as tears fall down her cheek. “I’m scared, Azriel.” 

I pull her into my arms, wrapping my shirt around her. Elain hides her face in my shoulder, wiping her eyes on the fabric. I stroke her face, waiting for her to speak. “I had a dream… about… him.” 

“Was it a vision?” 

“I… I don’t know.” She bites her lip. “He… he was angry. He felt that you and the others had manipulated me into rejecting the bond. He was… he had… let the bond consume him.” Elain shakes her head and breaks down into hysterical sobs. 

“That’s why you… you thought you  _ had _ to accept it.” 

Elain nods. “I… I can’t though. Even though he is my mate, I cannot love him with my entire heart. I could never love him the way Feyre loves Rhysand, and I… I can’t… it wouldn’t be fair to give Lucien any less than that. He deserves to find someone who can love him that deeply, that unconditionally.” 

I hug Elain tighter. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.” 

Shaking her head, Elain says, “No, I didn’t expect you to know. I… Can we make this work? With Lucien and… Mor?” 

I wait for the pang of grief that Mor’s name usually causes, but it doesn’t come. Elain has erased the pain from that wound away. “Mor… isn’t interested.” 

“I’m sorry,” Elain says softly. 

“Don’t be. I… I loved Mor, but the Mother had other plans for me, I suppose.” I return Elain’s warm smile. “I love you, Elain. My heart belongs to you now, if you’ll have it.” She takes my hand in hers and kisses my palm then my lips. 

“Only if you’ll take mine in return, shadowsinger.” She reaches up to stroke my face then my wing. I instantly harden again, grinning wickedly at Elain’s gasp. She pulls my ear to her mouth and whispers, “Show me that trick with your shadows again, Azriel.” 

⧪

We winnow into Elain’s bedroom as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. She kisses me on the cheek before collapsing on her bed. I tuck her into the covers and kiss her forehead. “I love you.” She smiles slightly in her sleep before turning over. 

Cassian’s snores rumble through the door to our small, shared bedroom. I smile and shake my head as I enter the room. He leaps awake at once, a dagger in his hand. “Relax. It’s just me.” 

“Where were you last night?” His words are clipped. Rage smolders in his hazel eyes. I shrug and lay down on top of the covers. Cassian rolls his eyes and spreads out on his bed again. “I guess it doesn’t matter.” 

I sit up and shoot a questioning glance in his direction, but Cassian is already asleep again.  _ Nesta must have said something to him last night. Damn female… she is so infuriating.  _ I rub my forehead and sigh.  _ I wish she would see her self-inflicted isolation is only hurting the ones who care about her. Especially Elain and Feyre.  _

Exhaustion drags me into a deep sleep. Elain’s face and scent flit through my dreams. I see her elated smile, hear her moaning my name.  _ She chose me. She rejected her mating bond… for me.  _

A loud pounding on the door and Mor’s voice startles me awake. The sunlight blinds me as I open my eyes. “Come on, lazy bones. It’s past noon. Get up.” 

Cassian groans as Mor knocks again. I chuckle and climb out of bed. I almost pull his blanket off before the memory of the anger in his eyes comes back. The scents of stew and fresh bread fill the house as I head downstairs. The others are gathered at the table, drinking glasses of water. 

Feyre and Rhysand greet me with broad smiles. Mor looks exhausted and disheveled despite her enthusiastic knocking. She pours herself another glass of water and downs it quickly. “Good morning,” she mutters. At that moment, Elain enters the dining room carrying a large platter of fresh bread. 

The sounds of the other’s talking fades as our gazes meet. Color rises on Elain’s cheeks as we stare at one another. She composes herself quickly and sets the bread onto the table. I feel Feyre and Mor gazing curiously at us, but I ignore them. Cassian stumbles down the stairs as I am pouring myself a glass of juice. He grabs the drink and gulps it down. 

I glare at him and pour another glass. Elain exits the kitchen, her eyes bright. She kisses me on the cheek before disappearing up the stairs to change her flour-covered dress. Rhysand’s eyebrow lifts, but he says nothing. I dish stew and bread onto two plates, handing one to Elain as she reenters the dining room. 

We sit next to each other and eat in silence. I ignore the curious looks the others give us, savoring the hearty stew. Feyre keeps looking at Elain and opening her mouth before closing it quickly. Our eyes meet and she nods her approval.  _ Why am I so shy about this? There is nothing to be ashamed of.  _

An image of Lucien’s face appears in my mind. Elain’s vision, the terror in her eyes as she told me about her dream. Rhys suspected Lucien would react harshly if Elain rejected the mating bond.  _ It can drive a male to the edge. It can make them act in ways they normally never would. It can cause them to take… drastic actions. It’s important we keep an eye on Lucien, on Elain.  _ The raw, primal rage deep inside of me rises up at the thought of him hurting her or any member of my family. 

Elain glances at me again, her brown eyes more alive than they have been in months.  _ I love her. Let him try and take her. I will shred him if he harms her.  _

When we finish eating, Elain links her arm with mine and says, “I want to go for a walk.” As she pulls me out the front door, I catch Mor’s eye. She is smiling broadly and waves her fingers at me. 

“Have fun,” she mouths. 

I scoop Elain into my arms and launch us into the sky. Her laugh drives away the frigid winter air and the dark thoughts in my mind as I take her to my favorite places in the City of Starlight. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Lucien**

I collapse to my knees, clawing at my chest as agony rips through me from deep inside of my soul. I hardly hear the shouts of concern from my friends, Vassa calling my name, Jurian asking what's wrong. 

_ Elain.  _ My instincts flare to life as her name enters my mind.  _ Elain. I'll find you. Please be safe.  _ I pull on the bond, but there is barely a sense of her at the other end. Roaring fills my ears as blind panic ensnares me. 

Without a word, I vanish from the hall. I hear them shout my name, but I ignore them.  _ Elain.  _ I tug on the bond with my entire soul, begging my magic to lead me to my mate.  _ Please be safe. Please.  _

My feet land on the cobblestone streets of Velaris. Store and restaurants surround me, laughter and light pouring out of the open doors. Looking around wildly, I catch Elain’s scent. I follow it to a place Feyre mentioned frequently. 

The entire Inner Circle is there, eating and drinking wine. I find her immediately. Before I can approach her, the look in her eyes freezes me in place. Joy. Pure, radiant joy shines there. As she glances up at the male next to her, the shadowsinger, her entire face lights up. 

As he looks at her, the shadows recede from his face. Affection radiates from him. I can scent it. I inhale deeply, concentrating on Elain's flowery scent. A pulse of fury courses through me as I recognize the smell of darkness and ice intertwined with hers. My vision turns red.  _ The shadowsinger’s scent.  _

The rage is replaced by an emptiness so vast I see no end to it. I clench my fists and grind my teeth, fighting to keep the rage locked down.  _ Kill him. I should kill him for what he did to her. He  _ stole  _ her from me.  _ At that moment, Elain looks in my direction. Her eyes widen with horror as she recognizes me. “Lucien!” 

Her voice soothes my burning rage for a heartbeat. The others turn to stare at me. Looks of shock from the females, wariness from Rhysand and the other winged bastard. It's the expression on the shadowsinger’s face that catches my eye.  _ She's mine,  _ it seems to say.

I take a step towards him, baring my teeth, as Elain pushes against me. I glance down at her. “What are you doing here?” she asks. 

The shadowsinger, Azriel, gets to his feet. “What am  _ I  _ doing?” I snarl.  _ How dare she?  _ “What are you doing with  _ him _ ? When were you going to tell me that you… you…” 

Her eyes blaze with anger. She steps away from me, towards the Illyrian.“That I  _ what _ ? Say it, Lucien.” 

I glare at Azriel.“That you  _ slept  _ with another male, even though we are  _ mates.  _ You are  _ mine. _ ” I snarl out the last word. Any worry, any fear on her face vanishes. My own fury is reflected on her face. 

Elain straightens to her full height, bracing her feet apart. She lets loose a snarl of her own. “I belong to  _ no one. _ I am not your  _ property,  _ Lucien. We might be mates, but I will  _ never  _ be with you I love Azriel. I choose him. Not you.” 

Her words extinguish my rage.  _ Gone. Gone forever.  _ A void rises up inside of me and swallows me. I feel my magic, the flames I inherited, sputter out. I step away from her, glancing from Azriel to my mate. Elain continues to glare at me, bristling with anger. “Fine.” I take a deep breath. “Fine. I don’t want the leftovers of a bastard born lesser fae anyways. ” 

Before any of them can open their mouths, wind rushes around me as I winnow out of the city, away from the female who shattered my soul.  _ My mate. She is my  _ mate.  _ She is supposed to be mine. Not his.  _ I appear in the gardens of my estate, startling some of the human sentries on duty. 

_ How dare they steal everything from me? First Feyre destroys the one home I had, and now my mate has the audacity to reject me. For a lesser fae at that. The Night Court has stolen  _ everything  _ from me.  _ I savor the burning, smoldering fury growing in my heart. I savor the dark thoughts filling my mind.  _ I’ll make them pay for what they did to me. I’ll take back what is mine.  _

I catch sight of Vassa entering the gardens as my power flares to life. She calls my name again, but I winnow away.  _ It’s better if I don’t involve them. They wouldn’t understand.  _ My heart leaps as the familiar smell of rose petals and green grass fill the air. I approach the manor carefully. Even in the darkness, his eyes are dead. He barely lifts his head as I cross the threshold. 

“Hello, Tamlin.” 


	23. Chapter 23

**Elain**

Azriel gently touches my shoulder as I continue to stare at the spot where Lucien winnowed from. His arms around me dispel the rage threatening to overwhelm me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I hide my face in Azriel’s shoulder. The frigid air freezes the tears spilling down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” 

“We’ll deal with it,” Azriel murmurs. His strong arms squeeze tighter around me. 

The others approach us slowly, cautiously. I see Rhysand and Azriel exchanging a serious look before Feyre blocks my view. She squeezes my shoulder, her eyes full of sadness. “Let’s go back home for now to discuss.” 

Feyre and Rhysand clasp hands and vanish back to the townhouse. Mor says she will meet us there after taking care of the bill. Cassian grabs Azriel’s other hand and we step through the shadows and into the townhouse. The roaring fire does little to warm the ice in my veins.  _ I might have just started a war that we cannot win.  _

Azriel leads me to a couch. He doesn’t take his arm off of my shoulders. I can almost taste the fury and violence coming off of him in waves. His face doesn’t betray a flicker of emotion, but the shadows move more frantically along his body. I pray silently that none of that anger is directed at me. 

The others settle into their chairs, all eyes turned to the shadowsinger at my side. “My eyes just reported that Lucien arrived at the Spring Court a few moments ago.” Mor’s mouth drops open at these words. “The shields around the estate are still down. Tamlin is still… his behavior hasn’t changed.” 

“What should we do?” Feyre asks. “I doubt that Lucien would listen to any of us. I’ve never seen him so angry.” 

“We cannot drag the other Courts into this,” Rhysand says. “The war just ended, and the peace is still too new to risk our alliances.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Azriel tightens his grip on me, a tendril of shadow wiping away the new river of tears. 

“ _ None  _ of this is your fault, Elain,” Rhysand assures me. 

“This could have been prevented if I had… accepted the bond.” Even now, the thought of being mated to Lucien makes me want to leap from the House of Wind. “I could have at least spoken to him.” 

“Elain, listen to me.” I look up at the tone in his voice. The voice of the High Lord, the most powerful one to ever walk Pythian. “You are  _ not  _ to blame for the actions of Lucien. You were always free to choose to reject the bond. We would never have asked you to accept it if it would have made you miserable.” 

“I can’t stand the thought of there being another war. Especially over me!” 

“We will handle it. I promise.” There is nothing but kindness in his violet eyes. 

“I have never seen you so happy, Elain,” Feyre chimes in. “We are your family, and we will do whatever it takes to keep it that way.” 

The lump in my throat prevents me from speaking, but my sister smiles her understanding. The anger on Azriel’s face softens slightly as he strokes my shoulder. I lean against him, savoring the strength and warmth coming from him. 

“Do we have a plan?” Cassian asks. “I don’t want to wait and see what that… what he does before we make one.”

“We could send a warning to the other Courts. Tell them what happened here and that we will handle it before Lucien can do the same,” Mor suggests. 

“Lucien was Tamlin’s emissary for centuries. He probably has more friends, more connections in the other Courts than we do. I wouldn’t put it past him to exploit them, to spin the story to his advantage,” Rhysand says. “It wouldn’t be hard for some of the others to believe, especially after I ‘stole’ Feyre away from Tamlin. To be honest, it was only the mating bond that saved us from being in the wrong.”

“I take it your view of the female being free to reject the bond is considered… radical?” I ask. I push aside the dread growing inside of me. 

Mor bites her lip and nods. “Too many of the Fae believe that females are almost property. The Illyrians take it farther than most of the other Fae do, but it isn’t a common belief that females have the same privileges as males. Especially in regards to the mating bond.” 

“What if I were to formally reject the bond? If I were to declare to the other courts that this was  _ my  _ choice, would that make a difference?”

Rhysand sighs. “It could help our claim, but there are those that would believe you were only saying that because we manipulated you.”

The room grows silent as we all sink into our thoughts. “I’ll do it. I will travel to each of the Courts, each of the High Lords, myself and tell them what happened and that it was my own free choice. They can decide for themselves who to believe. It would look better if we were open about it from the beginning.” 

I resist the urge to hide my face in Azriel’s shoulder as the others turn their assessing gazes to me. “They might also think we are trying to drag them into our petty squabbles,” Cassian points out. 

“Then we make it clear that  _ we  _ won’t involve them. We tell them that Lucien was seen going to Tamlin after the incident, and that we want them to stay out of it. This is  _ our  _ business, not theirs,” I say. 

“You and I can do this tomorrow. I’ll send messages to the other Courts tonight,” Azriel says. 

“I’ll go with you,” Feyre announces. 

“It’s been a long night, and I bet the wine is still affecting us,” Mor yawns. “Let’s go to bed. We can figure out what to do after a good night’s sleep.”

Cassian chuckles and shakes his head. “You mean the wine is affecting  _ you _ .” Mor sticks her tongue out at him, and a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I rise to my feet, exhaustion weighing me down. Azriel scoops me into his arms and carries me up the stairs to our shared bedroom in the townhouse. The large bed takes up most of the room, but the estate is almost done. 

Azriel sets me on the bed gently and begins unbuckling his daggers. He shrugs off his armor and pulls on a white cotton shirt. I pull the pins from my hair, sighing with relief as the locks fall down. A nightgown of silk floats in front of me. “Thank you, Azriel.” 

A tendril of shadow opens the buttons on the back of my dress. It falls to the ground as I pull the nightgown over my head. I drink in the scent of darkness and ice and starlight as Azriel presses his warm body against my back. He strokes my cheek with his hand. “Are you alright?” I ask him. 

“Yes,” he replies. “Are  _ you _ ?” 

I open my mouth to say “yes” but let out a long sigh instead. “I don’t know.” 

Azriel tightens his embrace. Desire courses through me as his lips trace a line down my cheek.  _ How can I want him at a time like this?  _ I turn to face him, my Illyrian warrior, and catch his bottom lip between my teeth. He lets out a soft groan and presses his body against mine. His shadows wrap around us as we lose ourselves in one another.

⧪

“Is this necessary?” I ask, eyeing the elaborate gown Nuada handed me this morning. She adds the last flower to the elaborate braid and nods. 

“We are meeting the other High Lords,” Azriel says from the doorway. “I wouldn’t want you looking anything but your best.” I stick my tongue out at him in the mirror. His laugh warms my blood. Nuada steps back from where I sit, admiring the effect. 

“You look beautiful,” she says quietly. 

I climb off of the stool, admiring the pale pink gown and small flowers woven into my hair. Azriel enters the room as the wraith vanishes through the wall. I admire the fine material of his black tunic, the sigil of the Night Court embroidered on his right shoulder. His Siphons gleam in the early morning light. 

“Am I presentable enough, my dear?” I ask, lifting my arms and twirling around slowly. Azriel doesn’t answer, but crosses the room and pulls me into his embrace. His lips crash into mine, driving the breath from my lungs. 

Feyre’s pointed cough startles me out of his arms. She grins at us before extending her hand. Her own gown is simple. Dark blue material decorated with small crystals hugs my sister’s form. Beyond the ring on her tattooed hands, there is no other adornment on her. “We should go.” 

I take her hand, and the room vanishes. The scent of the ocean and summer fruit greets us as we materialize onto a wide veranda overlooking a large city surrounding a bay. “Welcome to the Summer Court, my friends.” We turn to see Tarquin approaching us, Cresseida and Varian close behind. Azriel and I bow slightly, but Feyre only nods her head. 

“Thank you for receiving us on such short notice, Tarquin,” Feyre says politely. She holds her head high, meeting the High Lord’s piercing blue gaze. He offers my sister his arm. Feyre smiles and beckons us to follow.“How are the repairs going?” Feyre asks.

The shade of the palace comes as a relief after the blazing sun. “As well as can be expected. Hybern’s forces did a lot of damage, but it is nothing we cannot handle.” Varian walks close behind Azriel and I. Feyre brushes against the mental shields I have been careful to maintain. Her voice drifts through my mind. _ The High Lords are wary of one another, especially with how urgently we wished to be seen. Tarquin is a friend of our Court, but it would still do well to be cautious. The peace is too new, too tenuous. Azriel’s presence will put them on their guard. His powers are no secret.  _

“I am happy to hear that, my friend,” Feyre responds. Tarquin leads us into a large dining room. A table spans the entire length of the room. Mosaics of ocean creatures and scenes I don’t recognize decorate the walls. Lesser fae servents pull our seats out for us. Feyre sits to Tarquin’s right. Azriel and I next to her. Varian and Cresseida sit across from us. 

As the first course is brought to us, Tarquin turns his gaze to mine. “What do we owe the honor of this visit? Feyre’s letter said you had something you wished to discuss.” 

A lump forms in my throat, but Azriel’s fingers find mine under the table. “Yes, I do. I have a request, High Lord.” His eyebrows raise, but he says nothing. “I have decided to reject the mating bond of my own free choice, and my mate has taken this news rather badly. To prevent rumors and a possible conflict, we have decided to tell the truth from our own lips and request that it remain a  _ family _ matter.” 

Cresseida opens her mouth to speak, but a look from Tarquin silences her. He looks from me to Azriel then to my sister. “Why would it escalate beyond your borders? Why not simply speak to Lucien to resolve the matter? He has always seemed a decently level-headed male to me.” 

“Our sources informed us that Lucien was seen at the Spring Court,” Feyre replies. “My sister made this choice of her own free will. I will not have rumors of her mind being clouded and manipulated spread around and possibly causing another conflict.” 

“Why would you allow it to come to that?” Cresseida snaps. “You sister is Lucien’s  _ mate _ , after all.” She turns to glare at me. “When your sister left Tamlin, it would have been our obligation to return her to him had he asked.” 

I bare my teeth at her. “So I am to bind myself to a male that I do not love for my entire existence simply to satisfy an archaic and backwards law some stuffy High Lords of the past decided on?” Cresseida’s eyes widen. “I would rather slit my own throat than spend immortality at the side of a male that I know could never love or understand me the way Azriel does.” 

I glance at my Illyrian and there is warmth in his eyes. He interlocks his fingers with mine. “There has never been a High Lady before Rhysand changed that. The world is changing. Perhaps it is time we changed with it.” Tarquin’s voice cuts through the silence. “We will respect your wishes to keep out of this.” 

“Thank you,” I say, bowing my head. 

After the meal, we return to the wide veranda overlooking the sun setting into the water. Feyre embraces Tarquin. “It was good to see you. Thank you for…” He waves her words off with his hand. 

“Think nothing of it,” Tarquin says. “It is time we accepted that though we are immortal, even we are not immune to the changes time brings.” He steps forward and takes my hand in his. “I wish you nothing but happiness, Elain. And you as well, shadowsinger.” 

Azriel dips his head but remains silent. We step into the shadows, winnowing back to Velaris. Tarquin’s words echo in my head.  _ Why not simply speak to Lucien?  _

As we appear in the foyer of the townhouse, I tug on Azriel's arm. He follows me to the sleeping garden. He follows me into the sleeping, snowy garden. He brushes the snow from one of the wrought iron benches and sits me on his lap. A faint blue shield surrounds us so no one can overhear us. I take a deep breath. “Tarquin might be right. I want to try speaking to Lucien directly. It might be the best way to handle this situation.” 

Azriel’s face betrays none of his emotions, but his grip on me tightens. He lets out a deep sigh. “Is it wrong of me to say that I want you nowhere near him?” 

“Not at all, but this is something I have to do. I should have spoken to him sooner.” 

He presses a kiss to my temple. “If this is what you think is best, I will accompany you. Rhys and Feyre can speak to the other High Lords. We can find Lucien and you can speak to him.” 

I nod before throwing my arms around Azriel. “I love you, Azriel.” 

“And I love you, Elain.” 

He winnows us into our bedroom. I change from my gown into a simple green tunic and brown pants. Azriel passes me a dagger belt before strapping his sword across his back. I send a silent prayer to the Mother as Azriel buckles Truth-Teller to his belt and taps his Siphon. Black plated armor appears, covering his body. All seven Siphons glow with a radiant blue light. 

My Illyrian extends his hand towards me, warmth sparkling in those hazel eyes. We winnow to just outside of the estate of the High Lord of the Spring Court. The air feels almost balmy after the cold winter air in Velaris. “There are wards on the manor. We won’t be able to winnow in or out. Be careful.” As I turn to look at Azriel, shadows wrap around his entire body before he vanishes into my own shadow. 

I square my shoulders and approach the wrought iron gates. The grounds of the manor look neglected, the gardens overgrown and dying.  _ What happened here? Has Tamlin truly given up?  _ The gravel path leads to the front door. The wood looks splintered, but the doors are closed. I knock three times on them. 

A flash of red hair and a gaunt face greet me as Lucien opens the door. His russet eye widens as he looks at me. “Elain… what are you doing here?” 

Flashes of my nightmare, of my family and Azriel being slaughtered, appear as he speaks my name, but I push them down. “I came to speak with you, Lucien.” 

He opens the door wider and steps to the side. I take a deep breath before entering the manor. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Azriel**

From her shadow, I watch as Elain looks around the wrecked foyer before the door closes behind her. Lucien walks up beside her and beckons towards another set of large doors. There are only basic wards here, so my shadows begin to scout the area, searching for any threat. 

We enter what used to be a grand dining room, but the once large table lays in a pile of splintered rubble.  _ What happened here? Was this what Feyre escaped from?   _ I almost hear the questions in Elain’s mind as Lucien leads us to a smaller table and pulls out a chair for her. He takes the seat across from her and stares at his folded hands. The emptiness in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. 

“Why did you come here, Elain?” Lucien asks, his voice devoid of any emotion. 

Elain swallows. “I came to speak to you.” 

“Did you come here alone?” he says, glancing around the room. 

“My family knows where I am, yes,” Elain answers firmly. 

A spark of rage ignites in Lucien’s russet eye. I tense, preparing to leap from Elain’s shadow if he moves against her. He looks his mate up and down, taking in the color in her cheeks, the light in her eyes. “What do you want?” 

“I owe you an apology,” she admits. I push down the urge to caress her cheek at the guilt in her voice. “I didn’t handle this situation correctly, and I… I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you.” 

Lucien’s fists clench and unclench. He refuses to meet Elain’s eye. After a long silence, he lifts his head. “Do you know what it is to have everything taken from you? Your home, your friends, your  _ mate _ ?” 

“Yes, I do. The king of Hybern ripped everything away from me when he threw me into that Cauldron,” Elain whispers. “I had to watch everything I had stripped away from me. I couldn’t return to my family estate or the friends I had in the mortal lands. My betrothed rejected me in front of my entire family.” 

She takes a deep breath. “I watched him  _ murder  _ my father. He took one other thing away from me: my innocence. He turned me into a killer when I stabbed that blade through his neck. I still dream about his blood covering my hands at night. I hear my sisters and my father’s last words.” The words shudder through her. 

_ I never knew. How could any of us never see it? Elain… I’m so, so sorry.  _ I bury the guilt deep inside of me to be examined later. Lucien’s mouth is slightly open as he stares at her. He reaches across the table to stroke her hand, but she withdraws. 

Hurt flashes in his eyes as he pulls his arm back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

Tears leak down her cheeks. “So, yes, I know what it is to have everything taken from me by the actions of one person. It is enough to make anyone go mad with rage.” Elain wipes her eyes. “You can’t let it win though. I almost lost myself to the grief of losing my human life. I almost went mad when my visions started to blur with reality.” 

“I remember,” Lucien says. 

“No one knew what to do. I don’t blame them, but it… it almost destroyed me. I prayed every day for the madness to consume me so I didn’t have to deal with the pain or grief anymore.” Elain draws a shuddering breath. “ _ Every. Day.  _ I wanted to die or just stop caring, but something made me hang on.” 

My own eyes begin to sting.  _ How could I not have seen any of this? How could none of us have seen this?  _

Lucien opens his mouth to speak, but Elain holds up her hand. “There was one… one person who saw me beneath the… under everything. He saw me buried and drowning in the madness and grief. He saw…  _ me. _ ” A small smile forms on her face. “He was the one who helped lead me out of the darkness. He was the reason I knew I couldn’t give up or let myself be consumed by those feelings.” Her words spread warmth through my entire body. 

“Is you telling me any of this supposed to make me feel better?” Lucien sneers. “Is hearing tales of your half-breed  _ lover _ supposed to give me _ hope _ ?” Elain’s head snaps up. The rage in that russet eye could incinerate the world. The flames in the large fireplace grow larger. 

“No, I guess it isn’t,” Elain says calmly. “I was hoping explaining that might make my reasons more plain.” 

Lucien gets to his feet and stares into the fire. The air in the room begins to grow warmer. “If you didn’t come here to tell me you had changed your mind, why did you bother coming at all?” 

Elain slides out of her chair and begins backing towards the door. “Rhysand told me that the bond can drive males insane. It can cause them to act irrationally, and I didn’t want that to happen to you.” 

He turns to face Elain, a wide, humorless smile on his face. “If you didn’t want that to happen, you shouldn’t have rejected the bond. You are  _ mine. _ ” 

His words ignite my fury, but I remain hidden. Elain’s face hardens. “I belong to  _ no one _ . You are not entitled to me or my affections just because some… supernatural force decided that we would be a good match for one another. I am not a piece of property, Lucien. The fact that you believe that just proves my point.” 

Lucien barks out a mirthless laugh. “Oh? What point is that?” 

“You will  _ never _ be even half the male Azriel is!” Elain shouts. “And that I would sooner slit my own throat then spend even a single day of my life with you.”

There is a single heartbeat of pure silence before the air rushes out of the room. Flames dance in Lucien’s remaining eye and wrap around his body as he stares and stares at Elain. I materialize behind her, a shield already forming around us, and wrap my arm around her as the room explodes into a raging inferno. 

“I should have known,” Lucien mutters. 

“You really should have,” I growl. The fire pushes against the shield, searching for a crack. Elain presses her body against mine. The icy rage pouring through me matches the fiery rage in Lucien’s. Tendrils of shadow move to wrap around Elain as Lucien’s assault continues. 

I pull my sword from its sheath. “Please, stop this,” Elain whispers. “Please. No more fighting.” 

Her words stop me short. We stare at one another for a long moment before I sheath the blade. I begin backing out of the room, pulling Elain with me. The flames burn hotter, the heat seeping through the shield around us. 

Lucien steps towards us, all traces of sanity gone from his face. “Elain! Come back here!” he shouts. “I won’t lose you again.” 

“You need to let me go,” Elain says softly. Her voice carries over the roaring fire. “I am happy with my family. It is time you found your happiness too.” 

“I will  _ not  _ lose you again!” he bellows. The flames press against the shield more furiously. I can sense their desire to reduce me to ashes. We continue backing towards the door, Lucien following us at a predator’s pace. 

“I was never yours to lose. Please, stop this madness!” Elain sobs. “I’m begging you!” 

Lucien forms a sword of fire and lunges for the shield. His blade stabs right through it. I push Elain out the splintered door and draw my own blade. The heat from his power is overwhelming. I throw a shield over the doorway so Elain cannot come back into the room. She pounds on the invisible barrier, tears streaming down her face. 

We exchange a few more blows, but none of us are able to hit one another.  _ His anger must be lending him more power than any of us thought him capable of.  _  Sweat pours down my face, almost blinding me. I throw out a tendril of my power to Velaris, to Rhysand and warn him of the danger we are in. Shadows writhe around me, trying to bind Lucien so I can subdue him, but his flames burn them all away. My Siphons glow with power as I keep a shield around me to keep from burning. 

_ I can’t keep this up forever.  _ As a river of sweat pours into my eyes, Lucien manages to catch me with a solid punch to the jaw. I hear Elain scream my name as I hit the ground, the air rushing from my lungs, my sword skating across the smooth floor. The tip of Lucien’s sword digs into my heaving chest, searing my face. 

There is nothing but hatred and smoldering rage inside of his eyes as he presses the point of his blade deeper. Tendrils of flame appear around him and begin snaking towards me even as my own shadows battle against them. “Lucien!” Elain cries. He looks up at where she stands in the doorway, holding the dagger to her own neck.

Pure terror freezes my blood as they stare at one another. “What are you doing, Elain?” Lucien shouts.

“I warned you… I warned you I would rather slit my own throat than be with you,” Elain says quietly. Tears are streaming down her face. “If you kill him, my blood will also be on your hands.” 

Before Lucien can react, I kick his flaming sword out of hand, tangling his legs with mine. His head hits the floor with a sickening thud. I scramble to my feet and burst into the mercifully cool entryway. Elain drops her dagger and races to me as I gulp down the fresh air. I brush her off and pull her towards the gardens. 

The elaborate manor doors refuse to open. A shield of hard air surrounds it and the nearby windows. “You were not invited here, shadowsinger.” The cold male voice echoes in the large entryway. “By the laws of our land, Elain belongs with her mate. If you take her from these lands, my court could declare war on yours.” Dread slucies through me at his words.  _ We don’t need another war. Not now. Not when the peace is so fragile. _

We turn to see Tamlin standing at the top of the stairs. His face is gaunt, but power radiates from him. “I could kill you for trespassing, but there has been enough blood spilled these past months. Leave, shadowsinger.” 

“I am  _ not  _ staying here,” Elain snarls. “I do not recognize Lucien as my mate, so I will not--” 

“It doesn’t matter that you have rejected the bond,” Tamlin interrupts her. I push down the rage threatening to consume me at the condensation dripping from his words.  “The laws of our land are clear on that matter. If Azriel steals you away from my Court, it is all the justification I need to declare war on the Night Court.” 

“You have no right to keep me here, you bastard!” Elain shouts. I tighten my grip on her fingers. “I’m not a member of your Court, nor will I ever be. My allegiance belongs only to the Night Court!”

“As your mate, who has claimed you as his, belongs to the Spring Court, you also belong to this Court. Besides, we know that Night Court males are very skilled in manipulating young females. Once you have spent enough time away from them, I’m sure you will see how blinded you were.” 

Lucien appears in the doorway, rubbing the back of his head. He stalks across the entryway and holds his hand out for Elain. She takes a step closer to me. “Go to hell!” she hisses at him. Lucien looks to Tamlin and nods. 

All at once, Lucien rips Elain out of my grasp, and I am thrown from the estate grounds. I hit the gravel path outside of the gates. Wards have been erected around the entire estate. I push against the barrier and power snaps against my skin. I throw all of my remaining strength, fueled by the icy wrath threatening to consume me, against them, but they hold. 

I winnow to Velaris, appearing in the middle of the townhouse. The lights seem to dim as I appear. The others are gathered in the foyer, dressed for battle. Feyre looks for her sister and her expression hardens when Elain doesn’t appear. Rhys moves to take a step towards me, but I shake my head at him. I don’t trust the fresh surge of power crawling along my skin. 

Rhys brushes against my mental shield, and I lower it for him.  _ What happened?  _

As the images flash through my mind, the shadows around me begin to writhe against the leash I keep them on. They want to destroy and kill without mercy. Rhysand lays a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get her back, Az.” 


	25. Chapter 25

**Elain**

Lucien grips my wrist and pulls me close to him as a mighty, roaring wind fills the foyer. My scream is lost as Azriel vanishes from the room. I wrench my hand out of Lucien’s and race to the spot where he once was. “What did you do to him?” I shout. 

“He is alive and well,” Tamlin says flatly. “I just removed him from the estate.” 

Lucien takes a step towards me, but I retreat back. I can see the shield of hardened air over the doors and windows.  _ I have to find a way to escape, but not right now. I have to pretend and watch for my chance.  _

“Don’t touch me,” I growl. “Don’t you dare touch me.” 

“Elain…” Lucien says quietly. 

I shake my head. I look at the High Lord. “Do I at least have my own room?” 

A lesser Fae servent appears from one of the smaller doors leading off of the entryway. She offers me a sad smile and beckons towards me. I lift my chin, ignoring the distraught face of my mate, and follow the female. She leads me down neglected hallways to a carved, white wood door. I thank her and push it open. 

A large bed fills most of the room. Some windows look out into the gardens. A small wardrobe stands beside another door. I open it to find a cozy bathing chamber. An empty fireplace fills the remaining wall. The anger and defiance drains out of me, leaving me feeling exhausted. I sink onto the bed, burying my face into one of the soft pillows. A dreamless sleep soon claims me. 

A soft knocking on my door awakens me hours later. The room is faintly illuminated by moonlight streaming in through the windows.  “Elain?” 

The sound of Lucien’s voice sparks my temper. I reach for the dagger in my belt, but the sheath is empty. I ignore the second bout of knocking. After several tense moments, Lucien lets out a small sigh and his footsteps recede down the hallway.  _ Does he truly think I’m going to forgive him so easily?  _

I spend the rest of the night sitting with my back pressed against the headboard watching the door. As the soft light of dawn creeps into the room, a different knock sounds at the door. “Who is it?” A female voice responds to my question. 

The same female from last night enters when I open the door. She keeps her head bowed, refusing to meet my eye. “The… the High Lord has asked you to join Lucien and him for breakfast.” I feel a pang of pity for this young servant.  _ I can’t put her in the middle of this, but I’m not going to let them manipulate me.  _

“Thank you for informing me,” I say politely. “I must dress if I am to be presentable.” 

Her face flushes again. “I… I am to help you.” 

I shake my head. “No, I will take care of myself while I am here. It is what I did at home. You may stay here while I dress, if it will help you.” 

“T-the High Lord will ask…” 

“And I will explain to him that I do not need looking after.” 

She bows her head and begins to build a fire in the grate while I open the wardrobe. A scathing noise escapes my throat at the sight of the frilly dresses within. The tunic and pants I am wearing are still clean, if a little wrinkled. 

I rebraid my hair and leave the room. The servant chases after me, but I wave her away. “I’m not wearing those ridiculous clothes.” 

The sound of male voices emanates from the restored dining room. As I push open the doors, both males turn to look at me. I refuse to look at Lucien as he rises. I select a chair near Tamlin. “Good morning,” I say blandly. 

The High Lord looks me up and down. “Was the clothing not to your liking?” 

“Not really. It is much too frilly. I prefer simple clothing.” I keep my voice neutral and polite. “Skirts make it hard to move freely when working in the garden.” 

A wicked delight fills me as both males tighten their jaws. I pull some food from the nearby dishes and wolf it down. When my stomach is full, I push back my chair and get to my feet. “Thank you for the meal,” I say. “Am I allowed to walk the grounds? Your flower beds are in terrible shape, and I might as well have something to occupy my time.” 

“I will know if you try to escape the grounds,” Tamlin warns. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say sweetly. “ _ I  _ am not lusting for a war.” I look pointedly at Lucien before leaving the room.

The warm, soft air of springtime kisses my cheeks as I exit the manor. The gravel of the paths crunches under my boots as I wander between the hedges. Every shadow catches my attention, as if Azriel will step out of it.  _ I can’t rely on them to rescue me, but I know they wouldn’t abandon me. What would Feyre do? I doubt they will allow me leave the grounds at all.  _

I sink down onto the lip of a silent fountain. Closing my eyes, I look deep into my mind for any magic or trace of power, but I feel nothing there.  _ I don’t need magic. I have the exercises Cassian and Azriel taught me. I can grow strong while I wait. I will make mistakes if I rush. No matter how much it breaks my heart, I will stay strong.  _

⧪ 

I hear his footsteps on the gravel path before he rounds the corner into the large pavillion where I am exercising. Sweat pours down my body in the balmy air, but I ignore Lucien leaning against the archway until I finish. I turn to him and lift an eyebrow. 

“Elain.” I move to squeeze past where he is standing, but Lucien catches my wrist. I try to wrench my arm out of his grip, but Lucien hangs on. “I want to speak with you.” 

“Is it about me going home?” I ask scathingly. 

Lucien sighs. “I’ve told you that your home is here now.” 

I glare at him. “How am I to consider my prison my home?  I have nothing to say to you then.” 

His face hardens. “You have been ignoring me for weeks. I have been patient enough with you…”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “You’re not entitled to my time or my body, Lucien. Besides, I thought you didn’t want the seconds of a ‘bastard-born lesser Fae?’” His fingers tighten around my wrist. I pull on my arm, but Lucien twists it until I let out a hiss of pain. 

“Don’t speak to me that way!” he growls. My own temper flares at the fury in his eyes. 

“Let go of me! You’re hurting me.” I snap. I try to step away from him, but Lucien tugs me closer to his body. His scent of crackling embers and spring flowers fills my nose as he wraps his arms around me. “I said let go of me.” 

As Lucien traces his nose down my neck, I stomp on his foot with all of the strength I can muster. He lets out a grunt of pain and lets go of me. I drive my elbow back into his neck, leaving him coughing and sputtering on the gravel. My heart thunders in my chest as I race down the paths to the manor. 

Despite the terror coursing through me, I feel a glimmer of pride.  _ Azriel and Cassian would be proud of me for using their lessons. How dare he try to say he is entitled to anything? What a selfish bastard. _

I reach my rooms, gasping for breath. I bolt my bedroom door and strain my ears to hear any noise coming from beyond it. Several minutes later, raised voices fill the hall. I recognize Tamlin and Lucien’s voices. I grab the heaviest object I can find in my room, a stick I practiced with several days ago, as heavy footsteps echo in the hallway. 

The doorknob rattles and someone hammers on the door. “Elain, open this door.” 

My anger flares at the sound of Lucien’s voice “Go away!” 

“Open the damned door!” he shouts. 

“Why? So you can  _ claim _ me?” I yell. Lucien lets out an audible growl and shakes the door again. I brace my feet, holding the stick up. A second set of footsteps stops outside of the door. 

“Elain, will you open the door?” Tamlin asks. 

“No,” I say. Lucien bangs his fist on the door again, but Tamlin says something to him. 

“I just want to speak with you,” he says calmly. 

“There is nothing to say,” I snap. “I want to be left alone.” I watch the shadows under the door as both males speak too quietly for me to hear. 

“As you wish,” Tamlin finally says. The footsteps recede down the hallway. I let out a long sigh and put the stick back. I turn to sink into the bed when the sight of a waving tendril of shadow catches my attention. 

I let out a shuddering breath and sink to my knees in front of it.  _ Azriel…  _ The tendril reaches out and wipes the tears running down my cheeks. A small piece of paper appears.  _ “We are coming for you soon. Stay strong.”  _

“I will, Azriel,” I whisper. The tendril caresses my cheek again before vanishing. I swallow around the lump in my throat and go to take a bath. A peaceful feeling washes over me, replacing the residual fear from earlier.

When I emerge from the bathing room, Tamlin is leaning against the open doorway. I freeze in my tracks. “Do you need something?” I ask, keeping my voice polite. My heartbeat echoes in my ears.  _ Did he sense Azriel’s shadow?  _

“I’m sorry for what happened today,” Tamlin says. “I spoke to Lucien, and it will  _ not  _ happen again.” The edge in his voice sends a shudder down my spine. 

“Thank you,” I say. 

Tamlin nods and opens his mouth to say something else, but he shakes his head and walks out of the room. After locking the door, I sink onto the bed and let out a long sigh of relief. As darkness fills the room, the shadows seem to come alive. A smile creeps across my face as some of those tendrils move along my skin. 

I can almost feel Azriel’s hands running down my cheek, my throat, over my body. A familiar ache fills my core as desire courses through me. “What are you doing?” I whisper. “Are you trying to make this harder?” A tendril brushes over my lips, and I imagine his wicked grin in the darkness. 

My back arches as those phantom hands caress the front of my body, moving down in slow, teasing strokes. I bite back the groan as a tendril rubs against my most sensitive area.  _ I want to hear you, Elain. I want to hear my name on your lips.  _ Whether his voice floating through my mind is imagined or real, I don’t care as his name escapes my lips. 

“Who else’s name did you think I would say?” I ask as I run my own hands along the shadows. They seem to purr in response. 

His tendrils continue their gentle assault until, biting a pillow to muffle my groaning, climax barrels through me.

As my senses return to normal, I hear his voice again. The shadows wrapped around me whisper in my ear. _I’m sorry… I lost control._ _I miss you, Elain. We are working on a way to bring you home. Your sisters make a formidable pair._

“There isn't going to be a war is there?” I breathe. 

_ No. Feyre and Rhys are doing everything they can to prevent that. We are meeting with the other High Lords at dawn to discuss-- _

In an instant, the tendrils of shadow vanish. Moonlight floods the room as I sit up, looking around for any sign of Azriel. Footsteps echo outside in the hallway again. Lucien doesn’t bother to knock this time before the wood door splinters beneath his fist. Tamlin follows close behind him, his expression hard. As Lucien’s nostrils flare, I become aware of the musky odor of my arousal permeating the room.

“Where is he?” Lucien snarls. His hands curl into fists. I swear I can see flames burning in his russet eye. He scans the room, observing every corner and shadow before whirling around to me.“I know he is here.  _ Where is he _ ?” The low burning embers in my fireplace flare to life as his voice echoes from the walls. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Feyre**

I take a deep breath and adjust the diamond and silver diadem digging into my scalp. Voices drift from the room beyond the elaborately carved doors. Rhysand stands beside me, dressed in his elegant black tunic and pants.  _You look beautiful as always. Are you ready?_

I glance at my eldest sister, striking in her shimmering gown of dark gray, and lift an eyebrow. She nods, steel glinting in her eyes. I turn to Azriel and try not to wince. There is no kindness, no light in his eyes. More shadows than normal trail behind him. Darkness Incarnate. He gives me a slight nod. I push open the doors and enter into the meeting room atop the House of Wind. The eyes of the High Lords turn towards me and my family.

I stop at the head of the long table we had set up and sit down. Rhys and Azriel sit on my left, Nesta on my right. “Thank you all for coming.” Rage has threatened to consume me almost every waking moment since Azriel returned without my sister. It is a struggle to keep my voice neutral.

Kallias turns his piercing blue gaze towards me. “Why did you summon us all so urgently, Feyre?”

“I wondered about that myself,” Thesan interjects.

“As many of you are aware, my sister, Elain, is mated to Lucien,” I say. “Her rejection of the bond caused tension between our Court and the Spring Court, as Lucien rejoined Tamlin prior to that. When my sister went to speak to Lucien in an attempt to soothe the conflict, she was imprisoned there against her will.”

Looks of outrage bloom on Tarquin and Helion’s faces. I cannot read Kallias or Thesan’s faces. The High Lord of Winter rubs his chin. “The laws of our land are clear on that matter: A male can claim his mate. Taking her away by force would be enough justification for Tamlin to declare war on you. As all of our Courts stand between your lands, this could threaten us all.”

Clenching my fists under the table, I nod. “We understand that, but--”

Helion shakes his head. “I can’t believe Lucien would act like that, but I hope you don’t mean to ask us to go to war again, Feyre. Not so soon after Hybern. Not over such a… small matter.”

I bite back my angry retort as Rhysand’s soothing warning comes down the bond. “No. We do not want to solve this with violence. It is the last thing Elain would want either,” I snap. “I want to change the law that is keeping my sister imprisoned.”

The room falls completely silent. “Those laws have existed since Prythian was first formed,” Thesan says quietly.

I take a deep breath to steady my voice. Rising to my feet, I begin pouring each High Lord a glass of wine. “Yes, those laws have existed since the Courts were founded, but they were written millenia ago by ancient High Lords who could never have foreseen the changes our world has undergone.”

My mate gives me an encouraging nod. Every pair of eyes follows me as I circle around the table, floating the glasses with my power. “Humans were once enslaved by our people, but many of them, my mate included, fought to free them. The king of Hybern recently destroyed the wall that has separated our peoples for five hundred years. Now, we are working to build peace with the humans here and on the continent.

“Before Rhysand decided to change his Court, there had never been a female Second or Third here. Before my mate decided to challenge tradition, there had never been a High Lady. Surely our predecessors could never have seen these changes coming. However, our world is changing, whether we accept it or not. Though we are immortal, if we do not change with the world, we  _will_  eventually be destroyed.”

Tarquin lifts his glass to me in a small salute. I meet the wary gazes of Kallias, Helion, and Thesan. “The humans treat their women as little more than chattel, denying them many freedoms granted to the men. Under that archaic law, a mated female is little more than property to her mate. Some even interpret that law to extend to an unmated female belonging to her father. In that regard, we are no better than the humans.” The other High Lords bare their teeth at that. I feel a glimmer of wicked delight at their wounded pride.

Nesta opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off with a sharp glance. She returns my glare. Thesan exchanges a look with Kallias, then Helion. “What of the Illyrians within your lands? There are many unsettling rumors about them, particularly how they treat their females,” Kallias says, raising his eyebrows.

“We are working with the Illyrians to change that,” Rhysand says. “Surely after encountering my general, you can understand how stubborn they can be. I won’t risk a civil war in my own lands, not after the heavy losses the Illyrians faced.”

“What if Tamlin rejects our changing of the law?” Thesan says. “Will you go to war for your sister?”

“You say that Elain was taken against her will,” Kallias says. “All we have is your word…”

Azriel pins the High Lord to his chair with his smoldering hazel eyes. The brilliant light flooding into the room seems to dim for a heartbeat. “I witnessed the entire thing. Lucien tried to kill me when I protected Elain from him losing control of his rage. He has been driven insane by the rejected bond. Tamlin intervened and ejected me from his lands, leaving Elain behind.” His hollow voice chills my blood.

“I will raze his entire Court to the ground myself if he harms my sister,” Nesta says quietly. I barely repress a shudder at the undercurrent of unearthly rage in her voice.

Tarquin gets to his feet. He waves his hand towards us. “It doesn’t matter. What occurs between the Night and Spring Courts is none of our concern. If Feyre and Rhysand say they will not involve us, then I believe them.”

“I do as well,” Helion interjects.

“Feyre speaks true, however. These laws were from a time long before any of us were born, and I do not feel they have a place here any longer. I have done away with a long-standing tradition of how lesser faerie servants are treated in my lands,” Tarquin continues. I give him a warm smile at this.  _He is making the changes he so wanted to make._ “I say we change this law.”

Thesan closes his eyes for a long moment before getting to his own feet. “I am in favor as well.”

Kallias glances from Rhysand then back to the others before nodding. “Viviane would flay me alive if I refused to change this.” A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Rhys lets out a chuckle. “I think it’s the females that oppress us, Kallias.”

Tension drains out of the room as the others join in the laughter. My mate winks at me as an official looking piece of paper appears on the table in front of us. “Let’s get the stuffy, boring part out of the way, shall we?” 


	27. Chapter 27

**Elain**

Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I emerge from the middle of the hedge maze. Brushing dirt from my hands, I grab my basket of gardening tools and trudge up the already familiar garden paths with a heavy sigh. I find myself going through Azriel's last words to me over and over.  _Why would they be meeting with the High Lords? Tamlin hasn't left the estate, so he wouldn't have any knowledge about it. I hope they're not trying to start a war. Not so soon… not over me._

As the manor looms over me, my heart drops slightly, but I square my shoulders and push open the doors. Angry voices penetrate the dining room doors, but I ignore them. My basket grows heavy in my hands. A warm bath and a nap before facing my captors beckons me towards my room. When I reach the top of the grand staircase, the doors burst open and Lucien storms into the entryway. He gestures violently towards a crumpled, but official looking, piece of paper.

I instinctively scrooge into the wall, trying to make myself appear as small as possible. A burning russet and gold eye find me immediately. Tamlin follows Lucien from the room, his own face tight with rage. Terror washes through me as they ascend the staircase, but I harden my features into a neutral, yet slightly defiant, expression.

Lucien stops a foot from where I stand, blocking my way. "What do you know about this?" he demands, shaking the paper. Tamlin lays a cautionary hand on his friend's shoulder, but Lucien shrugs it off. I glare at the male and yank the paper from his hand.

A surge of emotion almost knocks me to the floor as I read, but I refuse to let my emotions show. I blink to clear the tears in my eyes and glare back at my mate. "I have no idea. I haven't spoken with any of my  _family_  since you locked me in this place."

That russet eye burns with barely-leashed fury. "You are mine by right of law."

"According to this, that law no longer applies," I say calmly. My heart thunders in my chest.  _I'm going home. I'm going home. I'm going home._

"I don't recognize their authority. Tamlin is my High Lord, and he wasn't invited to help change this law," Lucien snaps.

I scoff. "What do you have to say on this manner, High Lord? After all, according to Lucien, I am under your authority. Would you truly risk  _another_ war with the Night Court so soon after the last war?"

"The Night Court won't go to war for one female," Lucien says. "Their armies won't mobilize for something so… insignificant. Especially not so soon after the war with Hybern."

I let out a small chuckle. "My family doesn't need the armies to reclaim me."

Tamlin's face pales, but color rises on Lucien's cheeks. "Is that a threat?"

I shrug slightly. "Of course not. What can  _I_ do? I'm not a trained warrior, but  _my_ High Lord and Lady are powerful enough to wipe  _you_  and this entire festering Court from the face of Pythian," I spit out. "Now, get out of my way. I need a bath and to pack before I go home."

"You're not going anywhere," Lucien says with deadly calm, but there is a note of desperation in his voice. He steps closer to me, so our noses almost touch. I meet his smoldering glare with my own.

"I am going back to my room."

Tamlin pulls Lucien back, opening the path to the hallway a bit. "We need to talk about this, Lucien."

"She isn't going anywhere! She can't." Lucien snaps. I shoulder my way past both of the males and turn into the quiet hallway. I lean against the wall, my chest heaving with repressed sobs. "You can't seriously be considering giving into their demands, Tam! All it does is show that we are weak!"

"We can't risk a war with the Night Court," Tamlin says simply. "I can't stand against both Rhysand and Feyre. Not to mention those winged brutes he keeps leashed to him." Lucien begins to protest, but Tamlin cuts him off. "You are in  _my_  Court, so you  _will_ listen when I give you an order."

The house shakes as a surge of power crackles through the manor. I drop my basket and race down the hall. Locking the door behind me, I turn to collapse onto my bed, but someone already sits perched on the edge of it. My already trembling knees buckle, sending me crashing to the floor in a heap, hot tears spilling down my cheeks.

"Elain." His voice sends a chill snaking down every nerve in my body. Sobs erupt from my chest as Azriel's strong arms lift me from the floor and cradle me against his chest.  _This isn't a dream. This is real. He is really here._ He repeats my name over and over, a reverent prayer. I bury my face into his dark tunic, savoring his scent. Tendrils of shadow caress my face, wiping away the wetness on my cheeks.

"You came," I whisper around the lump in my throat. "You actually came for me."

He buries his nose into my hair. "I told you I would never leave you," Azriel murmurs, his own voice tight. "I've missed you, Elain."

"I've missed you too, Azriel," I say.

The house shakes again as a roar of fury erupts from downstairs. I scrooge into Azriel's embrace, and his face hardens as he senses my fear. "Has he harmed you?" I shake my head. "I'll return. I told Feyre I was scouting, but it sounds as if she has arrived."

He presses a kiss to my forehead before vanishing into shadows. A few of his tendrils remain, moving over my skin smoothly. My Illyrian flying leathers are on the bed. I wash the tears from my face, but my eyes remain swollen and red.  _Oh well, let them think what they want._

I happily pull off the dress and discard it on the floor. The leathers are warm and smell of home.  _Home. I'm going home._ A lump forms in my throat again, but I swallow it down. I don't spare the room another glance as I leave it. Lucien's furious voice carries through the entire hallway. The shadows snaking over my skin give me comfort and quiets the trembling in my body.

The front doors are thrown wide open, bathing the entire room with sunlight. Feyre crosses her arms as Lucien continues to shout. Azriel and Cassian stand just behind my sister, hands twitching towards their blades. My eyes instantly find Azriel, and the tears begin flowing down my face again.  _It's real. He's here, and I'm going home._

My feet fly down the stairs and towards him. Before I can launch myself in his arms, a strong hand on my arm pulls me back. The Illyrian males let out a snarl as Lucien tightens his grip. I try to wrench my arm away from him, but he digs his fingers deeper into my flesh. I let out a soft gasp of pain.

There is a promise of a painful death in the eyes of the Illyrians. The bright sunlight seems to dim for a moment before Azriel steps forward. Feyre throws out her arm to stop him. "Let her go, Lucien."

He lets out a low snarl and pulls me closer to him. "Elain is  _mine_!" He holds me against his chest, one arm resting close to my neck, the other across my stomach.

"We've been through this," Feyre says calmly. "Elain does not belong to you. You cannot keep her here against her will. The laws of our land are not in your favor."

"To hell with your laws!" he growls. His grip tightens, threatening to cut off my air supply.

"What happened to you?" I ask softly. "At one time, I thought you were a male of reason and kindness. The male I see now is nothing more than a territorial brute… a beast."

I feel Lucien's shoulders sag at these words. His grip on my loosens slightly, but I don't move away from him. He shakes his head angrily. "I guess if I am nothing more than a brute, there is no reason for me to act as if I am anything else."

A flash of pain lances through my neck as Lucien sinks his teeth into where my shoulder and neck join. His eyes never leave Azriel's as he lifts his chin, a trickle of my blood drips down his chin. Black shadows move over the bite, easing some of the pain. As quickly as a snake, the tendrils leap to Lucien's throat. I hear his breath leave his throat as they tighten.

The arms holding me vanish as Lucien tries to pry the shadows away with his fingers, but he can't grasp them. I push him away from me and run towards Azriel. Tamlin bursts into the entryway and glances at his friend. "What are you doing?" he snarls.

The tendrils vanish immediately. He ignores the High Lord and examines my neck. I nod to him.  _I'm fine._ Tamlin looks from where Lucien lays gasping on the floor to my sister. "Did one of your brutes attack a member of  _my_ Court?"

Cassian steps in front of Feyre and lets out a low growl. "Only after Lucien decided to bite  _me_  in some pathetic show of dominance," I say coldly. I point to the mark and blood on my skin. "We're leaving."

"You can't leave!" Lucien growls. "Please." Tamlin remains still, staring at Feyre with an unreadable expression.

I feel a twinge of sympathy as I sense that desperation in his voice again. "You can't expect me to stay here after everything you've put me through." I let out a long sigh. "Lucien… you know that neither of us can give the other the happiness we deserve. I can't settle for anything less than that. You shouldn't settle for less either." I glance at the Illyrian warrior next to me. "I love Azriel. I will always love Azriel."

"Elain…" Lucien says softly. "I…"

"I'm leaving, Lucien." I begin to follow my sister and Cassian out of the entryway when Lucien says my name again. "If you ever try to take me away from my family again, I won't hesitate to kill you myself."

His russet eye smolders with anger. "You don't have it in you to kill anyone."

I give him a wicked smile and say with a sickly sweet voice, "Who do you think killed the King of Hybern?"

Once we step outside of the estate gates, Azriel tucks me into his arm and steps into the shadows. He shares a brief look with Cassian before icy, night-kissed wind rushes around us and we appear in the skies above Velaris. His wings snap against the sea breeze and carries us past the city. We fly in silence for half an hour before Azriel lands in a small clearing carpeted with soft grass and beautiful flowers.

Shadows erupt from the ground, forming a tent around and above us. My throat tightens as I notice the line of tears forming in his hazel eyes. "I love you, Azriel." Before he can respond, I pull Azriel's lips down to mine and lose myself in his warmth.

 

**Author's Note: I apologize for the extremely long delay in my updates. October was a very rough month for me. I had a family member diagnosed with cancer, and it was a very stressful time. I'm grateful that it was caught early enough to only be very early stage. Everything is fine now. A few other things happened in the past few weeks that put me in a pretty deep rut. I had no interest in writing. I appreciate your patience and support of my fics. :) I hope I will be able to write more now that things are settling down in my personal life.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Azriel**

My body glows with warmth and pleasure in the afternoon sun. Elain breathes out a soft sigh as she nestles her head deeper into the crook of my arm. I stroke her bare back, hardly daring to believe she is real and not another dream or hallucination. "It's hard to believe this isn't a dream."

I pull her closer to me, savoring the warmth of her breath on my skin. The scent of our mingled sweat hangs heavily over the clearing. "I missed you," I say quietly.

I feel the heavy bob of her throat as she swallows. "I missed you as well, Azriel. I… I thought I would never see you again."

The shadows shielding us writhe, sensing the wrath rising up in me. "I would never leave you with that… there. I would have torn that entire Court apart to get you back." She pulls my hand to her lips and kisses it.

"I know."

"You don't seem to mind as much as I thought you would."

"I would tear apart the world if you were taken from me. You are  _mine_ , Azriel, and I am  _yours._ " Determination burns in her blue eyes. "I am going to get stronger. Never again will I allow myself to be taken away from you or our family again."

Pride floods through me at these words. "Very well. We start at dawn." A look of distaste crosses her face.

"Fine."

"Now that we have that matter settled." I pull Elain on top of me. A mischievous grin quirks up the corners of her mouth before she kisses my mouth, my throat, my chest. "Elain, what are…" The words are lost in a soundless groan as Elain takes me into her own mouth.

My hands move towards her to pull her back, but she pins my wrists against my side.  _Fine. Two can play at that game._ Tendrils of shadow begin to tease the most sensitive parts of her body. I hear a groan low in her throat that sends a wave of desire coursing through me. Elain begins to squirm against my ministrations, but shadows wrap around her ankles and wrists, holding her in place.

I let out a groan of my own as Elain dances her tongue along the growing hardness. "Elain." I feel her smile as she takes me deeper into her throat. "Elain." All at once, a cascade of pleasure rushes through me. The smell of her musk fills the air as she lets out a muffled scream. The shadows vanish, leaving both of us limp and pouring sweat.

I lift Elain so she is lying on my heaving chest. "I love you," she whispers.

"And I love you." We lay in each other's arms until the sun begins to set. When Elain shivers in the evening air, I pull our clothing towards us. As she is putting on the flying leathers, I say, "I have a... surprise for you, Elain." She takes my offered hand, and we fly back home. To Velaris.

* * *

 At the entrance to the temple, Elain hesitates. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." The last rays of the sun bask her hair and jewel-colored gown with a warm light. I stroke a wisp of hair away from her eyes.

With a nod, she pushes open the heavy doors. The interior is serene with low-burning candles and the quiet praying of the priestesses. I approach one of them and tell her my request. The priestess looks at Elain then at me again. With a wide smile, she nods her assent. Leading us to a spectacular garden, we stop beneath a wide arch.

"Please, join hands," the priestess instructs us. She places her hand on top of ours and closes her eyes. "Mother, we ask you to look upon these children of yours and bless them. Their love is pure, their love is true. May they honor one another, may they stay true to one another, and may they always love one another."

I squeeze her fingers as the priestess continues to recite the blessing. She looks into my very soul, healing every crack and hole. "Azriel, do you promise to honor and love Elain for the rest of your days?"

"I promise to honor and love Elain with all of my heart. I promise to cherish and hold her every moment in this world and the next."

"Elain, do you promise to honor and love Azriel for the rest of your days?"

"I promise, with all that I am, that I will spend the rest of eternity honoring, loving, and holding Azriel close to my heart." A lump forms in my throat, threatening to choke me. A tear rolls down her cheek.

"You have given your promise to one another and to the Mother to love one another for the rest of your days. Remember this day and this promise. From this moment and until your last, you are married in the eyes of the Mother. May she bless you both with a prosperous, loving union."

The priestess extends her hand towards Elain and deposits a ring into her palm. I smile at the look of wonder in her blue eyes. A band of gold and a small, carved diamond shines in the faerielight. She studies the inside of the gem where an intricate bouquet of roses rests inside the gem. "It's beautiful."

After sliding the ring onto her finger, Elain reaches up to kiss me. The scent of flowers and springtime wraps around me, warming my entire body. "I love you," she whispers, her voice tight.

I wipe away the tears streaming down her face with my thumb. "And I love you." She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes. "Are you ready to go home?" When Elain nods against my shoulder, I pull her into my arms and launch into the darkening sky.

"Are the others going to be angry we got married without them?"

"No. They might insist we go to Rita's though."

"I'm fine with that."

The windows of the townhouse are dark. I pause at the gate, sending a tendril of shadow into the house to investigate. "What's going on?" Elain asks. I don't respond, concentrating on the quiet house.

"Are you going to get in here or not?" Cassian yells from the upstairs window. Lights flare on at the sound of his voice. I hear Mor shouting at him through the door. Elain rolls her eyes, but there is a wide grin on her face. We enter the townhouse to find our family waiting there. Feyre and Rhysand lounge together on a loveseat. Amren sits in a corner, holding a glass of wine. Mor leans back in an oversized armchair with her own glass of wine. Cassian stomps down the stairs and claps me on the shoulder.

"I can't believe you went and got married without us!" Mor complains.

I shrug and smile at my wife. "I wanted a quiet ceremony."

"It is still rude! We have to go out and celebrate!"

"Where's Nesta?" Elain asks, glancing around the room.

Feyre's face falls slightly at the question. "She… went back to her own apartment. I returned here, told her you were safe, and I haven't seen her since."

A look of concern fills Elain's eyes, but she says nothing. I take her hand in mine to comfort her. "Would you like to go and celebrate? I don't think Mor will leave us alone until we do."

She sticks her tongue out at me and finishes her glass of wine. "I would love to go out and celebrate."

Mor leaps from her seat and throws her arms around Elain. "I already made a reservation!" Amren rolls her eyes, but I see a hint of a smile on her face. Rhys, Feyre, and Cass all drain their glasses and move towards the door. They clap me on the shoulder while Feyre also embraces me before we head into the night.

* * *

Elain snores softly in my arms as we fly over the city towards the townhouse. I send a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother for the quiet house. The others must still be wandering the streets. I make our way up to our room and lay Elain down on the bed. She smiles sleepily at me as I cover her with the blankets.

As I begin to unbuckle my sword belt, I feel whispers of danger. I step into the shadows and appear on the rooftops near the townhouse. A figure stands staring intently at window of our bedroom. Reigning in the wrath telling me to kill the stranger, I dig the blade of Truth-Teller into his throat. "What are you doing here?" I snarl.

Lucien's body stiffens. "I had to make sure she was safe."

"You're intruding. I would be well within my rights to slice your throat right now."

"You won't though." His voice is empty, hollow. It reminds me of the dead expression Elain had when she first came to Velaris.

I sense his hand moving towards his own weapon, but the shadows bind him. "I think you underestimate me." A drop of blood slides down his neck. "I  _should_ kill you for what you did to her."

"She is  _my_ mate," Lucien whispers. I almost roll my eyes at the desperation in his voice.

"And she is my wife." I almost regret saying those words as Lucien seems to sag against the shadows holding him up. "She has made her choice, Lucien. She wants you to be happy."

"How can I just ignore the mating bond?"

"The Mother does not always make perfect matches. If she did, everyone would find their mates and live in eternal happiness." I step away from him, releasing him from his bonds.

"She is my mate for a reason," he says pathetically.

"Elain has made her choice." Lucien flinches when I say her name. "It is time for you to heal yourself and find happiness. That is all she wants for you."

"I would have made her happy if you had just left us alone."

"Stop deluding yourself. You sound pathetic right now. Elain has made her choice." I step closer to tower over him, shadows writhing behind me. "I swear by the Cauldron that if I  _ever_ see or scent you near her again,  _I_ will gladly rip out your throat after she has finished with you. Return to your Court and find your own happiness."

Lucien's eyes hold a promise of a slow, torturous death as he winnows away. I reappear into our bedroom where Elain still snores softly. I stroke the hair away from her face, the sight of her peaceful expression soothing away my own anger. I lean down to kiss her forehead and climb into bed beside her.

"I love you, Elain."


	29. Chapter 29

**Elain**  

Feyre leads me to the study in the new estate. Shelves and shelves of books line the walls, and the crackling of a large fire in a marble hearth fills the room. Furniture of the deepest green forms a semi-circle in front of the fireplace. She sits me down on a large couch and sinks into the cushion next to mine.

"Elain, listen..."

"Is this about Nesta?"

My sister nods, her expression sad. "I can't watch her destroy herself anymore. She doesn't visit us, she doesn't visit Amren. We have to do something."

"Azriel told me that she has been going out every night... drinking. Bringing home a different male every night. I... I understand."

Guilt makes Feyre's voice heavy. "I blame myself for letting it get this far. She... I love Nesta very much. I know she has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with us here, with our lives or this Court."

"Would you like me to try talking to her?"

"No. I don't think she'll listen to anyone. The time for talking is gone. If we are going to help Nesta, I think we need to do something. Something drastic."

"Are you kicking her out?" I gasp.

"Not exactly. Rhys and I have been talking, and we are going to send her to the Illyrian camps with Cassian. He is going to spend a few weeks there to see if we can find the source of the unrest and resolve it before another war breaks out."

"I don't know if that will actually help Nesta."

Feyre lets out a long sigh. "We have been threatening to cut her off for months unless she changes her behavior, but she knows those threats are empty. It's time we show her that we are serious."

"If that is what you think is best, I understand." My heart cracks at these words. I love my sister. Nesta has always looked out for me, protected me. To see her going down this path of self-destruction after losing our father... "I don't want to lose a sister as well."

I am grateful for the warmth of the fire as a shiver passes through me. "Cassian will look out for her. Don't worry."

"I know. As aggravating as the Illyrians are, I would trust them with my life." Feyre bursts into laughter at this. I glance down at the ring on my finger. "When will they be home?"

"Rhysand said they would be returning by nightfall."

"Ah, just in time. I wonder who is going to knock the house down this time." I wink roguishly at my sister. "I believe it was Azriel and I last time."

"I believe it was Rhysand and I who woke up the servants."

I giggle at the thought. "Have there been any reports...?"

"Nothing new. The Illyrians are still restless. There are reports of other territories trying to expand into human lands. The queens are still showing no signs of leaving their palace. It's been months since the war, but everyone seems to be waiting for something else to happen."

"We will figure it out."

"I know. I just worry with them leaving all the time."

I nod, running my finger along my ring again. "Well, we can show them how much we disapprove when they get home." I look out the glass doors towards my sleeping gardens. "I'm going to go check on the plants."

Feyre embraces me as we stand up. "I'm going to talk to her tomorrow."

"Do you want me there?"

"Only if you want to be."

I nod and push open the doors. A greenhouse stands at the edge of my garden. The air inside is warm and humid. I pull a smock over my dress and dive into tending the growing vegetable plants. As the sun begins to fade, the door opens. I turn to see my husband standing in the doorway, a warm smile spreading across his face.

I run to him and throw my arms around his neck. "Azriel!" He presses his lips against my forehead. "I missed you."

Azriel picks me up in his arms and carries me towards the house. "I missed you too."

At the door to our room, he sets me down. "Can we talk?" I ask.

"Of course." He leads me to sit on the bed. I interlace my fingers with his.

"Feyre just told me about Nesta." Azriel nods. "I... I'm not sure how I feel about her being sent to the Illyrian camps. I know her behavior is destructive, but she is also my sister. The war still haunts her."

He puts his arm over my shoulder and pulls me into his warmth. "Rhys and Feyre believe this might be what she needs to finally face what happened to her."

"She has been avoiding the problems rather than healing."

"Yes."

"What if she's too far gone? What if she can't..."

"Don't give up hope for your sister. You know her better than any of us, but Nesta doesn't seem like she has it in her to give up."

I let out a small laugh. "Cassian can't be too thrilled with the arrangements."

"I think it was his idea to begin with. He needs to spend time in the camps, and Nesta needs to get out of the city."

"The general of the Night Court's armies reduced to a babysitter."

Azriel's smile widens. "He will survive, I'm sure."

"I don't think I can be there for that conversation."

"Well, I have some business to attend to outside of Velaris tomorrow. Would you care to join me?"

"Of course, but first..." I catch his lip between my teeth. A low moan escapes Azriel's throat as he pulls me down on top of him.

"I have missed you so, so much, Elain." He plants a line of kisses down my neck.

"Oh? Show me how much." A wicked grin spreads across his face as shadows erupt around the room.

⧪

Azriel strokes the hair from my face. Sunlight streams in through the small gaps in the curtains. "What time is it?" I mutter.

"Time to get up. Cassian already went to fetch Nesta."

I let out a yawn. "She won't be awake this early."

"If she slept at all..."

I throw back the covers and pull on a warm dressing gown. Azriel slides out of bed, and I savor the sight of his bare back. Tendrils of shadow snake along the muscled planes of his body. Memories of last night cause heat to flood my cheeks. I push down the thoughts and pull a set of flying leathers from the wardrobe.

"What will we be doing today?"

"It's been awhile since you had your last lesson, so I figured we could go train."

"That's your 'business' then?"

"Of course. I have been busy with my courtly duties, and that has caused me to neglect my wife. It is my duty as a husband to ensure my wife feels loved and appreciated."

I give him a warm smile. "I have felt forgotten and alone these past few weeks."

When we are dressed, Azriel scoops me into his arms and steps through the shadows. We reappear in the skies above the estate. His powerful wings catch us as we begin to plummet to the earth. We fly outside of the protective barrier surrounding Velaris and into the mountains.

After half an hour of flying, we touch down in a small meadow carpeted in bright autumn flowers. "This place is beautiful. I would hate to ruin it by training here." Azriel hands me a dagger. He draws Truth-Teller and taps his Siphon. Plates of armor cover his entire body.

"You will most likely use a dagger or knife to defend yourself. Both can be very deadly weapons, if used properly." I nod and weigh the hilt in my hands. It feels light and deadly. "I want you to try and attack me."

"What?"

"Pretend I am trying to hurt you and defend yourself. You won't hurt me."

I grip the dagger and lunge towards Azriel, aiming for his chest. He grabs my wrist and twists until I drop the blade. "You never want to move in for the chest or the head as your first blow. It's too obvious, and any opponent trained in combat learns to defend those areas at all costs."

Over the next few hours, Azriel teaches me the basics of fighting with a dagger. I manage to get past his guard and hold the blade to his throat. He rewards me with a proud smile and a kiss. "My little warrior." I go to punch him on the arm, but he grabs my hand and kisses it. Desire fills my body.

"I don't know why, but I cannot get enough of you," I say. "All I want to do is take you in this clearing, right now." I let out a long sigh. "I should be more worried about Nesta and the problems outside of our Court, but all I can think about is how much I love and want you."

"Never feel guilty for how you feel, Elain."

"Do you want children, Azriel?"

Surprise flickers on his face. "I... suppose I never thought about it."

"Feyre and I discussed it while you two were gone, so I guess it's been on my mind."

"I would be honored if you would give me a child, but we have many years ahead of us to think about it." Azriel moves to stand in front of me and takes my face in his hands. "Never forget that I love you. Would you like to go home?"

"I would." Azriel takes me into his arms and we vanish again into the darkness. We reappear in our room at home. I move to pull off the sticky flying leathers, but a soft knocking at the door interrupts me.

Feyre stands in the doorway, her shoulders slumped. I pull her into an embrace. "Cassian and Nesta left this afternoon."

"How did it go?"

"Nesta didn't destroy the house, so I'll chalk that up to a win." My sister sinks onto the bed, hiding her face in her hands. Azriel slips out of the room, shutting the door behind him. "She must hate me now. The hurt on her face..."

"Feyre, we had to do something.  _You_  had to do something. She was walking a path to destruction, and this might have been the only way to save her."

"I should have stepped in sooner. She was so thin... so thin and so empty. I think she feels like we despise her." A tear slides down Feyre's cheek. "I think she feels like she could never truly belong with us."

"We all could have done more, but... Nesta didn't want any help. We tried, but she rejected every invitation, every attempt we made to include her in the family."

"What if we had tried to adapt to what she needed? Nesta has never been one to fit into a mold others place her in. She has always been her own person."

"I don't know how much that would have helped. We could have tried a different approach, but Nesta would have only done something if she truly wanted to. It isn't too late. When they return, we can try again."

Feyre gives me a grateful smile. I take her hand in my own "I don't know when they'll be back."

"We can go visit."

"The unrest is growing in the war camps. I don't know if we're any closer to finding it. We can't risk another war... not so soon after the last one. We have a shot at peace, Elain. True peace between humans and faeries. I don't want to burden Rhys with my worries."

I squeeze my sister's fingers. "Feyre, he is your mate and your husband. I think he would want to be burdened with these things."

"He feels the pressure more than I do. I think he still blames himself for the entire war."

"Hybern would have invaded, whether or not Rhysand rescued from the Spring Court. You both endured so much to get here. You deserve a chance to be happy."

"When did you get so wise?"

"Azriel must be a good influence." I glance at the crackling fire for a few moments. "I want to help. I despise watching all of you go off to unknown lands while all I do is stay here and garden and wait."

"A-are you sure?"

I nod. "I think I can help. I don't know how, but surely there must be something, anything, I can do. I am a member of the Night Court and sister to the High Lady. That must carry some weight somewhere."

"Have you had anymore visions?"

"Not since the war. I think I learned how to control them, and I... I've been too afraid to try and use that power again."

Feyre nods. She gets to her feet. "We can discuss you helping over dinner. I'll see if Rhysand has any ideas for how you can help." As the door closes behind her, Azriel reappears in our room.

"Were you listening?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head. "I want to help. With the unrest in the war camps, the new peace treaty, anything."

Azriel sits next to me and draws me closer to him. "Would you want to go to the different territories to help negotiate the peace treaty?"

"Is that where you have been going?"

"Rhys wants me to find out as much information as I can to make sure the other territories aren't considering enslaving the nearby humans again. Many of them were unhappy with the results of the last war."

"I could go as a distraction. As an emissary of the Night Court, I would have a chance to get to know them while you tried to get information. It would be nice getting to see more of the world, especially with you, dear husband."

Azriel stands and extends his hand out to me. I take it and he leads me to the dining room where Rhysand and Feyre are deep in a discussion. They look up as we enter the room. "Hello, Elain," Rhysand says.

"I've decided that I would like to help with the peace treaty negotiations. I would like to accompany Azriel when he travels to the different territories. I can discuss the treaty while he gathers the information you need."

Rhysand raises his eyebrow and looks to his mate. "That would help. The other territories are wary of allowing Feyre or myself inside their borders. I would hate to add to Mor's duties, and Amren scares the hell out of everyone she meets." We all let out a small chuckle at this. "As long as this is really what you want."

"I can't stand just sit around here waiting for all of you to come home. I need to be doing something."

"Vallahan has expressed their desire to hear us out. They have invited us to send an emissary to discuss the new peace treaty. I have heard rumors that other territories are trying to sway them to join them in enslaving the humans."

"I can do it."

A proud smile spreads across the High Lord's face. "I have full confidence in you."

"When do we leave?"

"In three days." 


	30. Chapter 30

**Elain**

The fur inside of my hood tickles my cheek as Azriel and I wait in the entryway of the manor. Tendrils of shadow curl over his entire body, some of them moving over my own. "Is it so cold there I have to wear these?" Azriel nods.

My sister and her mate appear from the study. "Vallahan makes the Winter Court seem warm. Fur clothing is a necessity there," Rhysand explains.

I study my husband's attire. All seven of his Siphons shine from his black battle armor. "Azriel isn't wearing anything like this."

"Siphon shields are very, very good at blocking out the cold."

Feyre draws me into an embrace and kisses my cheek. I can see the worry in her eyes. "We will be fine, Feyre."

I take Azriel's hand, and he leads me into the cold darkness that moves him across the world. The journey takes longer than usual. When our feet touches solid ground, I have to squint against the sudden brightness of brilliant sunlight against the snow. Several figures bundled in thick coats and hoods approach us. I tense at the sight of their weapons. Azriel lays a comforting hand on my back.

"Welcome, Elain and Azriel of the Night Court. Welcome to Vallahan." The words are thick. The male leading the group inclines his head towards us. "My name is Marrtin. I have been tasked with ensuring your stay with us is pleasant."

I put on my politest smile. "Thank you for the warm welcome. It is a pleasure to be here."

Marrtin beckons us forward. Azriel and I fall in step beside him while the other members of the party follow. "Is this your first time to Vallahan?"

"This is my first trip to the continent. I have never had a chance to travel before this."

Marrtin smiles. "It is an honor that we are the first land you have seen. It is not often a beautiful female such as yourself comes here. Many say it is too cold."

"The cold doesn't bother me. I am just thrilled I have this opportunity to see the world with my husband."

We reach the top of a hill where a tall wall made of felled trees greets us. The gates swing open to reveal several long buildings lining a road leading to the center of the town. I take Azriel's hand in my own. Marrtin leads us to a grand building towering over the others. "This is where our leader lives. She is expecting you."

"Thank you, Marrtin," I say. He bows again and leaves. Azriel pushes open the carved doors. Inside, a female greets us and offers to take my coat.

"I didn't know you were wearing that dress," Azriel says. I rub my hands along the black silk with small crystals woven in.

"What can I say? I wanted to match you."

He strokes my cheek as another faerie appears and leads us into the main hall. Three blazing fires heat the room from a long hearth in the middle. The light illuminates several intricate carvings of fur-clad warriors slaying creatures I've never seen before. At the other end of the room, a female High Fae sits cross legged on a small dias watching us approach.

I admire the pride and strength etched into every line in her face and her stance. Wisdom glows in her brown eyes.  _This female has seen battle. She has seen many things._  At the foot of the platform, I dip into a deep curtsey. "Welcome to Vallahan. It has been a long time since we hosted members of the Night Court. I am Sigra, leader of the wandering warriors of this land."

"It is a great honor to be here, Sigra. I am Elain Archeron, emissary of the Night Court. This is Azriel--"

"Ah, the shadowsinger," Sigra says. Her lips curl into a slight smile as her sharp eyes take in the sight of his wings and the shadows curling around his face. "Your reputation precedes you. I have heard you have an aptitude for knowing things that others don't." Azriel smiles and bows his head. "I must admit that I am surprised your High Lord didn't send more warriors with you. I was looking forward to meeting the general."

I let out a small chuckle. "Diplomacy is not Cassian's strong suit. The last diplomatic mission he was sent on resulted in several destroyed buildings. The High Lord did not feel that would be a good way to begin peace treaty discussions."

Sigra's warm, booming laugh echoes through the room. "I suppose not. Of course, tales about the might of the Illyrians has reached us even here." Azriel smiles at this. "However, we can speak more once we have eaten. There will be a feast tonight, held in your honor. For now, you will be shown to your room."

A female faerie appears from the wooden walls and escorts us from the main hall and into a dimmer hallway. The carvings continue even here. She opens a door and the candles and hearth spring to life when we enter. I turn to thank her, but she is gone.

Azriel taps one of his Siphons to retract his armor before sitting on the edge of the large, four poster bed. I sit down next to him. "I like Sigra."

"I do, too. She seems like she would have many tales to tell."

"Who were those faeries we saw come out of the walls?"

"Wood nymphs, I would imagine. They don't live in Pythian."

Azriel and I spend the next few hours discussing the different types of faeries he has seen when a soft knocking at the door interrupts us. The same nymph from earlier beckons for us to follow her. As we approach the main hall, sounds of music and laughter. When the door opens, Sigra gets to her feet. "Friends, tonight we are here to honor the coming of two Night Court emissaries, Elain Archeron and Azriel."

Many members of the gathered villagers raise their cups to us. My cheeks flush as many of the males look me up and down appreciatively. Azriel keeps his face neutral, but the shadows around his hands writhe slightly. "Don't be jealous, my love," I whisper.

We are led to the table at the head of the room. Two empty chairs to Sigra's right are pulled back for us. Azriel pushes my chair in before taking his own seat. He takes my hand in his and squeezes. A platter heaped with roasted meats and herbs is set in front of us. Sigra heaps two plates full of various dishes and passes it to Azriel and I.

The first bite melts in my mouth. I let out a small sigh of pleasure. The others in the room begin to eat and talk again. Sigra turns to me. "It seems you have attracted the attention of many males in the village."

"That is very flattering, but I am married to Azriel."

Sigra glances at the ring on my finger with a puzzled expression. "Are you mates?"

I ignore the pang of guilt. "No. I just couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life with any other male." Azriel smiles at these words.

"I admit that seems to be a human custom."

"I suppose so. I don't know if humans learned it from the Fae or if it was adopted from the humans. It is not a requirement in Prythian, but Azriel and I decided it was what we wanted. Do your people not have marriage then?"

"Children are raised by the entire village here. Everyone has their family, but the entire population is one family as well. Two people may decide to commit to one another, but that rarely happens."

"That sounds wonderful. It was every family for themselves where I grew up. It seems a much better way to live."

"Is family not important in Pythian?"

"Many of the Fae seem to concentrate on their own families, but it seems different in the Night Court. Velaris has a very strong sense of community. I never felt anything like it until I came to the city. I never knew there could be so much happiness and peace in the world."

"What brought you to Velaris?"

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Before the war started, my older sister and I were stolen from our homes by the king of Hybern. He..." I sigh deeply. "He threw us into the Cauldron and transformed us into High Fae. The High Lord and his court brought us to the city afterwards to recover."

Sigra's eyes widen. "Archeron. I should have recognized the name. Your sister saved Prythian from that Hybern commander, didn't she?"

"Yes. Amarantha killed my sister, and she was reborn as a High Fae by the seven High Lords. All three of us were Made into Fae."

"That must have been traumatic for you. I am sorry to have reminded you of it."

"Thank you for your understanding. It was very hard at first, but I have begun to see the bright side to what was a horrible situation." I clear my throat. "You must have many stories of your own to tell."

"When you spirit is as old as mine, child, you too will have many stories to tell. I have fought in countless battles, countless wars. I have seen territories that no longer exist. I have travelled to lands that have vanished back into the sea."

"You must be a great warrior."

"You flatter me, young Elain. What do you know of my land?"

"Very little, I'm afraid."

"When the leader of the wandering warriors returns to the earth, our spirit is reborn into a new body. The memories of previous lives travels with the spirit. It is how our leader is chosen. The priestesses know the exact moment the child is born and start out on a quest to find them. Our legends say that this spirit is a god who gave up their place in the heavens to assure the lands of Vallahan and its inhabitants remain protected."

"I have never heard anything like that before. We worship the Mother in Prythian. I didn't think there were other gods."

"The Mother is revered here as well. The gods are her children, sent by here to watch over the lands she created and to guide its people."

"It is very fascinating learning about other cultures."

The empty platters are cleared away, and desserts are brought out. Sigra again serves us. After she sits back down, she looks at Azriel. "It has been quite a long time since I last spoke to an Illyrian warrior. What is it like in those mountains?"

"Nothing much has changed in the past few centuries," Azriel says. "They're still cold and brutal."

"The mountains or the people?"

"Both."

Sigra chuckles and returns to her food. After the meal, everyone mulls around talking and drinking. A glass of wine appears in front of me. Flavors explode in my mouth on the first sip. "It is our finest wine."

"It is... I don't have words to describe this." I pass the glass to Azriel. His eyes widen as he tastes it. He smiles and rubs his thumb across my knuckles. Something deep inside of me clenches at this touch. I barely suppress a large yawn.

"Let's go to bed," Azriel says. He tells Sigra we are retiring for the night.

"We shall begin our discussions in the morning. Good night."

"Thank you for the wonderful feast," I say.

A wood nymph appears to lead us back to our room. My head spins when I stand, and Azriel supports me as we make our way down the hallway. After the door closes, he picks me up and lays me on the bed. I roll onto my stomach, feeling tendrils of shadow unfastening my dress. Warm blankets wrap around me as I drift off to sleep.

"I love you, Elain," Azriel whispers in my ear. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Azriel**

“I admit, I’m impressed,” Marrtin says. Sweat pours down my face and back from the sparring match. I incline my head. “The Illyrians seem to be worthy warriors.”

“It’s refreshing having a new sparring partner. I usually only spar with my brothers.”

Marrtin sheaths his broadsword down his back. The gathered crowd begins to return to their other duties. We walk back towards Sigra’s house, passing training rings where novice wandering warriors spar with wooden sticks. “That seems like such a long time ago,” Marrtin says. I nod.

Elain sits with several women from the village, helping sort herbs for the healers. After two weeks in Vallahan, she has taken an interest in learning about medicines and healing magic while we wait for Sigra to reach a decision about forming an alliance with us. I approach them. When Elain looks up and sees me, her entire face lights up. “Azriel! How was the… training?”

“It went well.” The shadows move sluggishly over my body. Elain reads something in my expression and gets to her feet.

“Do you have time to take a walk? I need to go collect more herbs.”

She loops her arm through mine and leads me out of the village. We stop in a grove of willow trees where Elain begins to scrape off some bark. “What’s going on?”

I glance down at my arms where the shadows barely stir. She also looks down and raises an eyebrow. “Your shadows seem less… vigorous.”

I nod. “It’s been like this all day. I can barely hear their whispers.”

Elain strokes my arm, and the tendrils curl around her fingers. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. We won’t be here much longer. Sigra must be nearly done with her communing.”

“I’ve been seeing… things again. It’s mostly in my dreams, but I think my visions are coming back. They scare me, Azriel.”

I tighten my embrace. “Is there anyone here who is a seer too?”

“Sigra. The women tell me that she has had visions of things that have yet to happen. I will ask her when she returns.” Elain’s entire body shudders. “It’s the same dream every night. I keep seeing you lost in the snow. I can’t reach you. I don’t want to let you out of my sight… not that I could do much to help you, but…” She buries her face into my chest.

“I’ll be careful, Elain.”

“I know, but this dream plus your shadows acting strangely… It makes me uneasy.” She bends to gather the dropped bark. “We should get back before dark.”

I scoop her into my arms and launch into the sky, summoning a Siphon shield to block the biting wind. I feel an unusual drain on my power.  _What is going on?_ We fly in silence before the village comes into view. All of the novices look up in wonder as we land in front of Sigra’s house. Elain kisses my cheek and takes her bark to the healer’s longhouse.

I push open the door to our room, exhaustion weighing me down. Before I can collapse onto the bed, movement catches my eye. I pull Truth-Teller from its sheath as two masked males step into the light. We stand staring at each other before one of them lunges forward. I step out of the way, but the second male throws a cloud of powder in my path.

_Faebane._

My knees hit the floor as my power drains out of me. The shadows evaporate, and my Siphons turn dull. Truth-Teller clatters to the floor. I try to climb to my feet, but my body refuses to obey. The males stand over me, triumph gleaming in their eyes. Icy dread fills me as one of them pulls blue chains from a bag.

The other lifts his dagger. There is an instant of pain before I sink into darkness.

⧪

_Elain. I just want her to be safe._

The scent of mildew, woodsmoke, and unwashed bodies hits me as the world begins to take form again. Several sets of footsteps pace around me impatiently. My wings are extended, but I can’t move them. Burning pain lashes through them as I swallow the sound building in my throat.  _Slowly. You have to find out what you can before they realize you’re awake._

A new smell comes closer, fire and leaves. “I can’t believe it actually worked.”

 _That voice._ A wave of fury erases any thought of caution from my mind. My eyes snap open, and I am face-to-face with an all too familiar face. One russet eye gleams with madness and triumph. “Azriel. So kind of you to join us.”

Chains rattle as I try to lunge towards Lucien. He clicks his tongue. “None of that.” Several of the others in the cave lay their hands on their weapons. “Elain said I was no better than a beast, but I see you aren’t either.”

I don’t respond. Lucien paces in front of me with a maniacal grin on his face. “Tamlin might have allowed the Night Court to steal his bride, but I am not going to let you take my mate too.”

_He’s gone insane. His obsession with the bond has driven him into a dark place._

“She will be mine, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.” 


	32. Chapter 32

**Elain**

“Sigra has returned.”

I jump at Marrtin’s voice. “Is she ready to speak to us?”

He nods. I hurriedly wipe my hands on my skirt and follow Marrtin to Sigra’s house. In the great hall, Sigra sits in her usual spot. Her face looks hollow and pale, but her eyes are alive with a mysterious light. I incline my head in greeting.

“It is good to see you Elain. The healers tell me you have been helping them these past weeks.”

“Yes, I didn’t want to just sit around, and that seemed to be where I would be most useful. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. There are always more hands needed, but that’s not what we are here to talk about. Where is Azriel?”

“I haven’t seen him since this morning,” I say. A look of concern crosses Sigra’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing you need concern yourself with. The future is a fickle thing.”

“The females of the village tell me you are a seer.” Sigra nods. “I have visions as well, but… I don’t know how to control them. They almost drove me to madness before I learned how to block them out.”

“It is a gift and a curse. I would be more than happy to teach you what I know after we discuss the alliance. Azriel would not want to miss this conversation.”

“I’ll go check our room for him.”

Most of the torches in the hallway are extinguished. My heart begins to pound in my chest. I grab one still burning low and make my way to our room. The door opens at a slight touch. “Azriel?”

The candles and fireplace spring to life as I enter the room, illuminating the wreckage. A chest of drawers lays toppled over, the bed covers are torn to shreds. Splinters of wood litter the floor. I bend to examine one, and my entire body screams at me to run.  _Is this ash wood?_ In the center of the room, a night table sits. I approach the table to see one of Azriel’s Siphons sitting on top of it beside Truth-Teller.

Every thought, every emotion drains out of me as I collapse into a heap on the floor. I struggle to breathe, trying to fight against the pain threatening to crack my heart. Tears flood from my eyes as I clutch the Siphon to my chest. I whisper his name over and over and over to the carpet.

I don’t hear the footsteps until Sigra’s gentle hands lift me onto the bed. She gently pulls my body straight. “Find out what happened here,” she instructs someone. I tighten my grip on the dull Siphon and snarl as she tries to pry it from me. “Elain, it is me. I can help.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know, but we can find him.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s gone. Without his magic, he might not be able to escape.”

“Elain.” The raw  _power_  in her voice pulls me out of my grief for a moment. I look up at Sigra. “They made one mistake. We are both seers. With your power and my guidance, we  _will_ find Azriel. Do you understand?”

“We can find him?”

“I promise, but you cannot help him if you let your pain consume you.”

The truth of her words sinks in, and my muscles relax. “Show me what to do.”

Sigra helps me to my feet and leads me to the great room. We enter a door behind the head table. She glances over her shoulders before pushing it open. The inside is dark, but the candles spring to life as Sigra crosses the threshold. “This is where we have communicated with the gods for millenia.”

“I don’t understand what my being here will do.”

“It will help you find your husband,” Sigra says. “Don’t you feel the power here?”

I shake my head. “I only feel empty.”

“Elain, you have the power to find him. You are a seer, and you have the ability to control where your visions lead you. I can teach you, but you have to believe in yourself too.”

Sigra instructs me to sit across from her and to take several deep breaths. “Now as you exhale, release your doubt and fear. I will help you.”

As I breathe, the weight inside of me lessens. “I can’t believe this works.”

She only smiles at me. “Now, focus every aspect of your mind on Azriel. Tell your power to lead you to him. Holding his Siphon will help channel your vision.”

I close my eyes and imagine every inch of his face. His smile. His laugh. Tears fall down my cheek, but I try to reach him.  _Show me Azriel. Show me where he is. Show me!_

_I appear in a dimly lit cave. I almost gag on the smell of sweat and unwashed bodies. A soft clattering sound draws me deeper inside the cave. Flickering shadows dance along the wall. I inch my way towards the light, all of my senses straining for any sign of Azriel._

_As I round the corner, my knees buckle. In the middle of the cave, Azriel hangs from the wall, suspended by manacles of a blue-tinted metal. Dried blood cakes the side of his head and pools around his feet. I call out his name, but no sound escapes my throat._

_I notice several males sitting around a table playing dice. They occasionally look in Azriel’s direction, but none of them seem to notice me. I approach my husband and almost collapse with relief as his chest rises. “How did this happen?” I mouth to him. As I kneel next to him, I notice splinters of wood embedded in his wings. I run my finger slowly over it, but my hand goes through the membrane._

_I struggle to turn away from him, but I need more information. I look around at the cave. The distant sound of rushing water comes from a smaller tunnel leading away from the main area. I begin to walk down that path, towards the river. As the sound grows deafening, I feel a tug deep in my soul. The mating bond springs to life as I round the corner and come face to face with Lucien._

_He stops mid-step and looks around. Seeing nothing, he shrugs and continues back up the path. I follow behind him, my emotions churning back and forth. The other males greet him with raucous cries as he appears in the main cave. I watch as Lucien approaches Azriel and smirks. A fiery rage consumes me. I run to stand between them. As I stare into my mate’s face, sending every ounce of ire and hatred I can muster down the bond, I see a familiar gleam in his eyes._

_The king of Hybern had a similar expression of madness the night he threw my sister and I into the Cauldron. I muster an image of Lucien’s face into my mind and send it raging down that link between our souls. His smirk vanishes, replaced by a look of horror. He looks around the entire cave, his golden eye narrowing. I block Azriel’s body with my own until that gaze falls on where I stand._

_“Elain…” Lucien whispers._

Sigra’s room reforms around me. “I found him.”

“Where is he?”

“They took him to a cave with an underground river.” The image of him hanging unconscious body remains in my mind. “I have to go find him.”

Sigra lays her hand on my arm. “Tell me everything you saw.” I describe every detail of the cave, the strange males, the chains holding Azriel until Sigra speaks again. “Who is Lucien?”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “My mate.”

“You have a mate, yet you bonded yourself to another male.”

The room takes on a reddish tinge. “Yes. I rejected the mating bond. He couldn’t respect that I am a person with my own thoughts and feelings. He wanted to make me into his obedient pet. He kept me imprisoned, away from my family.”

“Elain, calm yourself…”

“I will be calm once Azriel is safe.”  _And once Lucien is at the bottom of a grave._ I feel a sickeningly familiar tug in my soul. I resist the urge to shove my growing anger down the bond. “It might not be necessary to scour the caves. I can feel Lucien calling to me.”

Sigra nods. “It sounds as if he has allied himself with a group of warriors that have… rejected our way of life. They spend their days pillaging and taking whatever they want. They’re no better than bandits.”

I lower myself to the floor in front of Sigra. “I will beg if needed, but I am not a warrior. I don’t wish to ask you to endanger your people, and I fear it will take too long to get a message to my family. Will you please help me recover my husband?”

She lifts my chin. “Yes, my child, I will. As an ally of the Night Court, it is my duty to protect its members as well. I will gather a few of the warriors, and we will leave immediately.”

“Thank you.”

I hurry back to my room and put on my Illyrian flying leathers. I buckle Truth-Teller on my hip.  _It has never failed me._ Azriel’s words echo through my head, the first moment I admitted I needed him. I put his Siphon in my pocket.

“I am coming for you, Azriel. I won’t leave you… just as you never left me.” 


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: Apologies for the long delay between updates. I was plagued by another bout of writer's block, and it was entirely my own fault. The last version of this chapter didn't have a lot of the things I wanted in it to continue the story how I wanted, so I ended up writing myself into a corner. I am going to delete the old version. Now that I have this figured out, I will start writing the next chapter. Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me so far!**

 

** Azriel  **

_I can see her kneeling in front of me, a look of rage and sorrow darkening her eyes. The fiery, sweet girl I have come to love has transformed into a creature of burning anger and pain. Her hand reaches up to cup my face as her sharp gaze moves over my battered, aching body. I try to muster a smile for her, but my body doesn't respond._

_The last spark of kindness in her face dies as she looks down at my wings. She moves her hand towards the ash splinters buried there. Before she can remove them, she gets to her feet and stalks away. I try to call after her, but no words escape my lips._

"She was here! I felt her. We're leaving. Now!"

Lucien's voice grates close to my ear, pulling me back to the world. Two of his cronies support my body as the chains are taken down, but Lucien doesn't remove them from my body. I slump against them, and they stagger under my weight.  _I've had worse injuries. I've been in worse situations. I can win this fight without my magic._

He bends to unlock my feet. As Lucien goes to stand, I lash out. I elbow one of the males holding me in the throat. He chokes, letting go of me to grasp at his throat. Lucien leaps forward, but I whip the chain still fastened to my arm into his face. Blood spurts from his nose. He barks out a curse.

The other male holding me tries to grab my other arm, but I drive my knee into his stomach. I hear the air rush out of his chest. The other males rush towards their companions, but none of them approach me. I begin moving towards one of the caves before Lucien shouts, "Get him!"

Two of the males charge towards me. I catch one with the tail end of a chain, and he slumps to the ground. The second male grabs one of the chains dragging from my legs. I stumble, but manage to keep my footing. I lunge towards him, knocking him off balance. He keeps his grip on the chain, dragging me to the floor with him. I kick towards him, catching his head. He lets out a groan of pain.

I scramble back to my feet as the other three uninjured males begin stalking towards me. Backing away, I head down the tunnel leading to the underground river. Before I reach it, a set of hands grab me from behind and throw me to the ground. A heavy weight settles on my body. "You're not getting away from me, shadowsinger."

I throw my head back, catching Lucien's nose. He yells, but it isn't enough to throw him off. The other three males run towards us and drag me to my feet. "By the Cauldron, bind him and make damned sure he can't move." He snarls and makes his way down the tunnel.

One of the males bends to take the chains. I bring my knee up to connect with his face. He snarls and clutches at his nose. "You damned bastard!" The other two males tighten their grip on me, but I bring my foot down hard onto one of theirs. He loosens his grip enough for me to pull my elbow free. I grab the chain and swing it wildly at the third male. He ducks under it and twists my arm behind my back.

Ignoring the pain, I try to bring my foot up to kick him, but he wraps his leg around mine. He grapples me to the ground, pushing my head down with his free arm. Stars swim in my vision as it collides into the stone. I hear footsteps echoing through my pounding head. "What the hell is going on? What is taking so long?"

"He keeps fighting us."

Lucien grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head up. He places a knife against my throat. "I will kill you if you keep struggling."

"You're too much of a coward to do it," I hiss through gritted teeth. Rage courses through me, but I can't reach a fragment of my power.

"Try me, bastard."

"If you kill me, she will never forgive you. She might even kill you herself." I feel the chains tighten around my wrists. I force a sinister smile to form on my lips.

"The mating bond..." The blade digs deeper into my neck.

"You underestimate her."

"Elain will not harm me. The mating bond prevents that." A wry laugh escapes my throat. Lucien snarls and throws my head down. Another wave of blackness consumes me as one of the males pulls me up.

* * *

_I see her walking towards me, that terrible fury sparking in her eyes. The fighting leathers hug every curve, showing off the slight muscles she gained from our training. She throws her arms around me. "Where are you? I'm trying to find you." she says._

_Her sweet scent wraps around me, banishing the scent of blood and sweat. "Here, with you."_

_"No, Azriel, where are you?"_

_Her body begins to fade. "I told you. I am with you."_

_She nods and mouths, "I love you." My body sags as she vanishes._

A creeping sense of dread begins to snake its way into my heart, but I lock the feelings away.  _I am an Illyrian. I am a warrior, and I will not let this break me._

I repeat the words in my mind over and over. The chains give no room for movement to relieve the burning pain searing through my entire body. I listen to the other males pace and speak to each other in whispers as the hours pass. Exhaustion begins to pull me into an uneasy sleep.

"That's four more of us that have vanished!" The gruff male voice echoes from the walls, startling me out of my doze. My limbs are dead and numb. "It's this damned forest. It's cursed."

"That's just superstitious nonsense," Lucien says.

"We don't want to stay here."

"Would you truly back out on your one chance to get out of this hellhole just because you're afraid of some wind in the trees?"

The male growls. "The others are getting restless. It's been three days already."

 _Three days? How long was I unconscious?_ "She will come. She has no choice."

"Why did we move in the first place? If your goal is to take your mate back, why did you leave when you said you felt her there? Why are you keeping this one alive."

"I have my reasons."

He stalks away, muttering incoherently under his breath. Lucien paces for a few moments before stopping in front of me. "What does she see in you?" I notice a flicker of movement in a shadowy corner of the cave.

The corners of my mouth twitch upwards. I lift my head and meet his eyes. "For a start, I do not treat her as if she is my property."

He bares his teeth at me. "She is my  _mate_!" His voice fills the cave.

"Yet she rejected you." I let out a dark chuckle as fury ignites in his eye. The other males look over at us for a moment. "Just like your men are about to." Lucien glances over his shoulder, and the others avert their gazes. When I see the unease on his face, I laugh again. Lucien draws the dagger sheathed at his side and points it at me.

He opens his mouth to respond, but a flurry of movement at the mouth of the cave catches our attention. My breath catches in my throat when I see Elain, dressed for battle, stands there, surrounded by Lucien's men. As I scan her face, I see no trace of kindness, no hint of mercy.

Lucien takes a stumbling step towards her, staring intently as her face. Elain pointedly ignores him and glances at me, checking for something. I give her a small nod.  _I'm alright._ As Lucien gets closer to her, she shifts that empty, icy stare to him.

The arm holding the dagger drops to his side. "Elain..." He motions for the males surrounding her to back away. "She means us no harm." They glance at him, at the expression on her face, before backing away from Elain and towards the mouth of the cave, swords still drawn.

Elain's hand rests on the hilt of Truth-Teller. Lucien stops in front of her. He says her name again, but she only continues to stare at him."Elain... please."

The chains binding me loosen. "Remain still, shadowsinger." Marrtin presses a small dagger into my hands before stepping back into the darkness. I hear the shadows whispering faintly to me as the metal falls away.  _She has been consumed by vengeance. She doesn't know the price of killing, shadowsinger. You must save her or she will lose herself._

Lucien reaches a hand towards her, but she unsheathes Truth-Teller. Lucien goes still. "I told you..." Her voice cracks. "I told you that if you took me away from my family again that I wouldn't hesitate to kill you myself." She tightens her grip on the engraved hilt. Lucien's face blanches.  _Shadowsinger! If you want to save the one you love, you must act now!_

"Elain," I say quietly. She doesn't hear me. "Elain!"

Time seems to slow as one of Lucien's bandits grips his sword tighter. As she looks over at me, the male lifts his sword. The wall holding back the ancient, unending, icy rage within me cracks open. The dagger in my hand buries itself in his skull a heartbeat later. I forget about my pain, my fatigue. The shadows cry out in ecstasy as the darkness washes over me.

Marrtin and the other warriors appear from where they were hidden. I step through fabric of the world, savoring the bitterly cold breeze, and hook my arm around Elain's waist. We vanish and reappear on the other side of the cave, behind the line of Sigra's warriors before the other males can react. "Stay here," I growl to Elain.

Lucien lets out an unearthly roar. The others lift their swords. Marrtin places my Illyrian blade in my outstretched hand. Shadows dance down the blade, along my battered body, crying out for the blood of the red-haired male before me. I welcome the pain, the agony. "Azriel!" I ignore my wife's desperate plea.

Pushing my way through the crowd of wandering warriors, I unsheathe the sword and point the blade at the raging male. "I grow tired of your games. We do this the old way. Now."

A wicked grin spreads across his face. "Are you sure you're up to it?" The taunt fuels my rage. "If I win, she is mine. You will never see or speak to her again. I will hang you from the walls of the Spring Court by your entrails. Your precious High Lord can come collect what's left of you when I'm done."

Flames erupt around us, forming a ring. I hear Elain calling my name, but I ignore her. The shadows writhe away from the heat, but I wrap Elain and the others in a protective net.  _She holds the blade. Protect her._ They balk against the order.  _I am your master. I command you. Now, protect them! Protect her!_

Sweat beads along my forehead as the heat intensifies. We touch the tips of our blades together and begin to circle one another. Lucien lunges towards me, his russet eye reflecting the fire. I block his blows easily. The sound of steel on steel, blade on blade, echoes in the cave. I push him back towards the wall of flame.

He lets out an animalistic sound as his magic threatens to drive him to madness. A ball of fire explodes from his hand, raging past my face. The edges of the world lose substance as my back, my wings erupt into flames. The sword in my hand clatters to the ground as I collapse by his feet. 

The pain grows stronger as Lucien forces me to look up at him. "Do you yield?" Even the rage coursing through my veins can't quell the burning draining my strength. He presses the tip of his sword into my neck.

_No!_

"I do not yield."

"What?"

"I will  _never_  yield to you." I punch through that wall, into the void where all shadows come from, giving myself completely to that darkness.

"Than you will die."

He pulls his blade back to plunge it into my neck, but a tendril of shadow catches it. He gasps as the sword vanishes in a writhing mass of blackness. My fingers curl around his neck. I get to my feet, lifting Lucien by his throat, more shadows curling around my arms. I delight in the desperate, wheezing breaths he squeezes out.

"It is you that will die here." The flames surrounding us begin to sputter out. His fingers claw frantically at my hand. There is nothing but myself and the life fading from his eye. "Good-bye, Lucien."

Elain's voice cuts in over the roaring in my ears. "Azriel! No!"

He claws desperately at my hand. His kicks grow weaker. Elain throws her full weight into my chest. "Azriel! Stop this. Now." I glance down at her with an empty look. Tears pour down her cheeks. "Please, stop this!" 


End file.
